The Judgment of Solomon
by Pat Foley
Summary: At 3,Spock will be of age to be sealed as his father's heir by the Vulcan Council, except T'Pau refuses to sanction him. To ensure that Spock can inherit the full legacy of his father's heritage, Sarek makes demands of Amanda and Spock. Holo series 0 ch15
1. Chapter 1

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**by**

**Pat Foley**

Nothing pleased Sarek more on returning home than to hear his human wife's voice raised in song. He was well aware that from the standpoint of Vulcan control this scenario was heretical in nature. Both for her behavior as wife to a Vulcan, and for him as a Vulcan to take such pleasure from it.

But in spite of all his professed Vulcan philosophies, he would have found it hard to deny himself that private indulgence. He was no monkish acolyte of Kohlinahr, to reject all emotional experience. Provided he maintained all external controls, his enjoyment was well within his prerogatives as a mature Vulcan.

And his wife was Human.

And Vulcans did sing – as accompaniment to musical performances, to relate historical ballads and such. Though to sing for personal enjoyment, for sheer emotional pleasure, or to express joy was not an accepted Vulcan mode of conduct. In fact, it was so completely pre-Reform, that it could be considered provocative.

Though he knew Amanda didn't sing with the intention of seducing him. She simply sang. She sang when she was happy. She sang when she was soothing their infant son to sleep, when he was fractious from cutting teeth or some other malady. She sang when she was doing tedious chores. And she sang to entertain herself, her husband, and sometimes their son. This was particularly obvious now given what she was singing, not a ballad of love but some childish nonsense rhyme about a spider climbing a water spout.

Amanda had begun singing to his son even before his birth. Sarek did not think that Spock had previously taken any **particular** guidance from his mother's behavior, at least to Sarek's knowledge. To put a fine point on it, Spock had not emulated her in this regard. Though it was also true that for his first two years their son had not been terribly verbal. But this time, Sarek was suddenly aware that their son Spock, now two and a half standard years of age, although otherwise absorbed in an educational logic puzzle spread out around him on the floor, was singing along with his mother.

Amanda broke off her song when she saw her husband, her eyes filled with a joy that still astonished Sarek with its emotional intensity, even after several years of marriage. And warmed him again, in spite of all his Vulcan controls.

"You're home!" she always exclaimed with delight, as if it was only due to some miracle that he could navigate an aircar across the desert sands from Shikhar's Council Keep buildings to their Fortress home.

She flung her arms around him in a hug and kiss. Sarek stiffened a bit shooting a glance at his child. Recently, as Spock began reaching an age where he would notice and discriminate such behavior, he had become more concerned about he and Amanda setting proper role models for their child.

But Spock was still absorbed in his puzzle, still absently singing to himself, mesmerized in his contemplations in spite of Amanda's breaking off her song and her exclamation of delight. Their son was fortunately totally oblivious to their unVulcan behavior.

"As you can see," Sarek said, withdrawing from her embrace and offering her the two fingered touch of bondmates, with a pointed glance at their son.

Amanda accepted this change of embrace with a shrug of her shoulders to indicate she wasn't going to argue, but a rolling of her eyes to express her opinion of such stuffiness.

"Spock, hello, wake up, your father is home!" she said instead.

I-Chiya rose first from where he had been napping nearby, wuffed, and greeted Sarek gravely. Amanda watched as Sarek's hand absently brushed the huge head, carding through the thick fur. She raised a brow of her own.

"Tell me, my dear husband, why your sehlat is allowed more outward expressions of affection in public than your wife?"

Sarek gave her a repressive look and dropped his hand.

I-Chiya gave a throaty exhalation that made it pretty clear that as far as he was concerned, this was only natural. He had been first in Sarek's childish heart, and the empathic sehlat knew it. While he tolerated her as a necessity in Sarek's adult life, and was even fond of her in as much as anything his beloved master was fond of he would embrace as well, he didn't plan to give up his long favored position to some mere human upstart. He turned his broad back on her, to express that.

"I-Chiya, you are rude! Sarek, are you going to stand for that from him?"

Sarek drew up, disinclined to get in the middle of such conflicts. "I-Chiya is a sehlat, Amanda. One must make allowances for differences in species."

"I would accept that," she argued, "except that on Vulcan, **I** seem to be the one making all the compromises."

I-Chiya roared in confirmation of this appropriateness.

"Oh, get along, you walking carpet. You're off duty." Amanda said, in acknowledgement that with Sarek's return, I-Chiya always considered that the third child care shift had arrived. With a measuring look to Amanda that she had no trouble interpreting, I-Chiya headed off to her garden. She set her teeth, knowing exactly what he intended. But there was no use fighting that problem now. Later she'd talk to Sarek about sehlat-proofing the garden beds she wanted to preserve. If her husband would even tolerate any restrictions on his beloved pet.

"I don't understand why I play second lyre to a sehlat in this house." Amanda complained.

"Your statement is illogical, my wife," Sarek said, taking refuge in literalness. "I-Chiya does not play the Vulcan lyre."

"You do that deliberately," Amanda accused. "I know you understand exactly what I mean. I'm your wife, not some diplomat you are using Vulcan tricks to verbally fence with."

"We'll discuss it later," Sarek said.

Spock raised his head as I-Chiya lumbered past him, shook himself out of his logical reverie, belatedly noticed his father, and totally akin to his mother's behavior, flung himself across the room toward him.

The embrace which Sarek would have accepted and returned in Spock's infancy he was now steering Spock away from. Sarek set his son back on his feet, exchanged the proper parental embrace, and distracted him further from the emotional encounter by taking him over to review his puzzle.

"That is excellent progress, my son," he said, his voice revealing a trace of astonishment.

"He's been working on it most of the afternoon," Amanda said, watching them with no little amusement.

"The child has it nearly solved." Sarek said. He had thought it would take him months. And that he would need considerable assistance to do so.

"Well, what did you expect?" Amanda asked complacently. "He's brilliant, like his father. Like both his parents, if I do say so myself."

Sarek glanced at her, realizing she didn't understand the significance of Spock's abilities. But he had no chance to reply, for Spock cut in.

"I like it," Spock pronounced. "It is fascinating," he added, using his favorite English word, while his mother rolled his eyes. And then, as attracted to his puzzle as iron filings to a magnet, Spock dropped down to the floor, on his stomach, ankles crossed over his back, totally absorbed again. Except that he was absently singing that same nonsense song.

"I wished he'd never heard me say that **word**." Amanda said, turning away, sotto voice, as if word choice rather than Spock's singing were more of an issue. "The first time it was precocious. Even the second time it was cute. But now, suddenly everything is "faaaaaassssscinating". His storybooks are fascinating. The way Eridani moves in the sky is fascinating. That the water swirls in the tub in a circle before it goes down the drain is fascinating. I thought his Whys alone were going to drive me crazy. I didn't know what I was being saved from. Now every "why" for the last two weeks has been followed by a 'fascinating'. I confess that, as much as I love my own child, I am no longer fascinated by his use of 'fascinating'. In fact, it has become a colossal bore."

"Did you suggest another word, as I recommended?" With a lingering glance over his shoulder at their son's progress on his puzzle, Sarek followed her.

"Indeed I have. I have worn out a thesaurus suggesting other words. Scintillating. Enlightening. Enthralling. He picks them all up like a computerized dictionary. We don't have to worry about his linguistic abilities." Amanda gave him a significant look.

She was referring to their fears of a year ago when Spock, confused by the enormous differences in sound and syntax between Vulcanur and the English his mother couldn't help speaking, had suffered a language acquisition delay. But then, while his worried parents had just begun a process of consulting healers and development specialists, Spock had mentally integrated the two languages in his mind. Without any help from educational experts he had suddenly begun talking a blue streak, going from bare one word utterances to complete, and even complex, sentences. And then, with the dam broken, he hadn't shut up since.

"He has even said 'logical', to borrow his father's favorite word. I'm sure you don't mind that."

"I do not."

"But he prefers 'fascinating'" Amanda concluded. "I think he likes the sound of it. He is, dare I say it, **fascinated **by 'fascinating'. You would think, with the combined lexicon of English and Vulcan available to him, he wouldn't settle so firmly on just **one** word to convey his ultimate approbation.

"I am sure he will soon diversify his comments."

Oh, well," she said, regarding her son with exasperated fondness. "It's only another fifteen years or so, and then I dare say he'll be out of the house most of the time. Or I'll go deaf in my old age and be spared it."

"But now he is singing," Sarek mused, returning to his first concern. "I hear that quite clearly."

"Have you never heard him sing before?"Amanda asked, oblivious to the implications. "He sings very well. Perfect pitch. Well, why not?" Amanda abandoned him to go back to her dinner preparations. "He has your hearing. We know that from having him tested, when we were so worried about his speech. And no doubt all your musical abilities. Our combined musical abilities. Why shouldn't he sing well?"

Sarek turned from his contemplation of Spock's puzzle solving to stare at his wife, visibly shocked at the heretical inference that Spock, that any Vulcan, should sing.

But she was as oblivious to the ramifications of her rhetorical question as Spock was, still singing softly as he worked on his logical puzzle.

"Fasssssscinating," Spock said, drawing Sarek's attention back to him. "I have finished it."

Sarek turned back to have his shock compounded by the realization that Spock had indeed solved it. A puzzle somewhat beyond what Sarek had thought of as his abilities. He had thought to have to help him with it in the evenings, and even then, had thought it would take them some weeks or even months to do.

"Brilliant, darling," Amanda said, coming over to give it a glance, and her son a pat on the shoulder, no more surprised at this than she was, at least any longer, at her son's ability to lightening calculate, or see shades well into the infrared, or any other of a myriad of Vulcan propensities.

It came to Sarek that she was as ignorant of when Spock was performing above Vulcan abilities as she would be if he were deficient. To her they were all of a piece. He had not realized that.

"Put your puzzle away now, and then wash up for dinner."

Spock went off, pleased with himself but as unperturbed as his mother at his abilities. As he left, Sarek heard him take up again the sing-song tune about the spider.

Sarek met his wife's eyes, not sure how to communicate either his amazement or his concern.

"What?" Amanda asked, seeing the look on her husband's face. Sarek checked his own annoyance at the fact that he had lost countenance and failed control. "It's not like I told him to wash with **water**, or anything unVulcan like that."

Sarek caught his breath at such obliviousness, realizing Amanda could not be expected to know what caused his astonishment. He didn't answer, concentrating on forcing his own reactions back to some semblance of Vulcan discipline. He needed time to consider this carefully.

After dinner, when Amanda took their son off to bed, Sarek took the puzzle pieces out of their container to reanalyze the logical skills necessary to solve it. He was staring at them fixedly, trying to reconcile the requirements to their son's astonishing ability when Amanda came in.

"Having trouble dear?" She asked, patting his shoulder kindly. "You can always ask your son to help you."

_To be continued…._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 2**

On his way to Council the next morning, Sarek stopped at the institution where he had received his first, formal primary education. Striding down the corridors brought back memories of his own schooldays here.

When Spock had been born, Sarek had not dared to let himself look too far in the future. Who knew the viability of such a child, much less his capabilities? Spock had been the first.

Even six months ago he and Amanda had been concerned with so basic a function as Spock's language acquisition skills. He had certainly not reckoned on Spock forcing his hand in the opposite direction.

He was shown into the office of the director, who rose in respect. "Sarek. Your presence honors us."

"You did not used to say that," Sarek said, with a trace of irony, "when I was engaged in mischief."

The educator's formal demeanor relaxed slightly. "I admit to some concerns at the time. But your mastery of the disciplines has proven that you are well past such… now," Subor said with a raised brow of amusement.

"I am pleased you believe so," Sarek said. "For I come in earnest, and in some need."

"How may we serve?" A faint line had appeared between Subor's brows. He had been one of those consulted during Spock's language delay.

Sarek put the symbolic logic puzzle box he had brought from home on Subor's desk. "Spock has solved this."

Subor gestured Sarek to a chair opposite the desk. He opened the box and surveyed the puzzle. "An admirable accomplishment."

"I gave it to him the evening before yesterday. He completed it yesterday."

Subor raised his gaze from the puzzle to meet Sarek's. For a moment he did not speak. Then he drew a breath and said, with admirable control, "Indeed."

"Yes."

"That is …interesting."

"Obviously. However, it leaves me at something of a loss to know how to proceed. I had thought we would spend some months in such pursuits, Spock learning to complete them with my assistance."

Subor tilted his head in consideration. "He had no assistance at all? That he had received some would be the logical answer."

"I was present in the room, in discussion with his mother, when he completed the last third. He had none."

"Your wife," Subor began. He raised an inquisitive brow.

Sarek stiffened a little. "What of her?"

"She **is** an educator," Subor mused. "A **Terran** educator. We have never studied Terran educational systems. Might they lend us some insight into this…puzzle? What are her methods?"

"Her methods?" Sarek asked.

"In instructing your son."

"She does not instruct him," Sarek said, slightly surprised at the notion. "Spock is not in any formal education program at present."

"But of course, she does," Subor said. "Children are always learning, even before formal education."

"I had not considered that," Sarek admitted.

"What activities do they engage in?"

Sarek sat back, figuratively pressed to the wall. "She maintains his existence," he said, with just a trace of reluctance. "Feeds, clothes, cleans. The child is just barely past infant stage."

"I do not speak of maintenance," Subor said with the patience of a formal educator. "What is their interaction?"

Sarek set his mouth in an unrevealing line. But he trusted Subor enough to speak the exact, if unVulcan truth. Some of what he was about to relate he knew were not pursuits normal Vulcan children would engage in.

"She reads to him. Stories of fiction, usually. I do not approve of such but my wife is fond of them. And it is part of her heritage that she wishes to relate. Some factual materials. They sing. Create things with materials: paint, sand, building modules. They garden. They romp with our sehlat. I am not entirely aware of all the details of their activities. She …plays with him. Her actions are… unVulcan, but I do not see the harm in them, given Spock is pre any formal training in logic or emotional control. My understanding is that until a child is introduced to the disciplines, there is normally little restriction on their activities."

Subor fingered the puzzle meditatively. "**She** did not assist him with this?"

"No."

"I do not know if humans even have the logical skills necessary," Subor ventured.

Sarek thought about that. "No doubt she could assist him, though she did not with this one. She has played with other puzzles with him before. Humans have their own forms of logic. They place a higher value on induction as opposed to deduction. And their logic is contaminated by intuitive skills. I do not say such logic is entirely invalid. Obviously Humans have a significant degree of accomplishment in many forms of science and endeavor. But her thought processes are … "Sarek tilted his head slightly, not wishing to comment adversely, yet unable to deny the truth of it, "entirely unVulcan."

"Creative intuition," Subor said. He tapped the puzzle. "Inductive logic. Perhaps it is a factor, even in such a skill as this. It will be interesting, when Spock begins his formal education, to see how his accomplishments and training will be affected by such factors."

"Do you think that they have been?" Sarek asked, slightly startled. He had thought so young a child would be largely immune. And that when Spock began his education, the disciplines would prevail over all other influences.

Subor jerked his chin to the left slightly, in a Vulcan negative. "From this alone, one cannot deduce. Nor do I choose to speculate. This could be an anomaly. We would need more data to evaluate. And to determine the correct course for Spock's education. He is proving-"Subor raised a brow, a trace of amusement in his tone, "an interesting study example. From near wordlessness to complex conditional statements, in a matter of weeks. From romping with sehlats to this. He appears to contain a …plethora of contradictions."

Sarek looked away for a moment, mastering his control. "I came to seek guidance on methods to proceed, not to provide you with sources of interest."

"Yes. Of course," Subor said. "I meant no disrespect, Sarek." He rose from his desk. "I will give you some additional tests of logic for Spock in puzzle form. I suggest you attend him for the afternoon while he works on them, to ensure he does so without assistance. You may encourage, of course, to help him retain interest – a child of such years has a necessarily short attention span. But do not counsel or guide him on how to complete them, nor allow others to do so. I suggest you record the session for my educators to review. We shall see what he can accomplish in a defined period, and then meet tomorrow to deduce how to proceed further."

"Tomorrow?" Sarek asked, startled.

Subor turned from where he had gone to retrieve the materials. "You have something more important to do this afternoon than attend the educational requirements of your child?"

Sarek drew a breath. "Apparently not."

"Do not be concerned, Sarek," Subor said, bringing him back a satchel of the selected materials. "**Your** role in this assigned 'homework' is purely perfunctory."

Sarek shot his former teacher what for a Vulcan was a dirty look.

xxx

His afternoon thus redefined without his input or consent, Sarek proceeded to Council to delegate the remainder of his daily schedule as best he could. Fortunately today was largely devoted to hearings, which others could summarize for him. He had some appointments that could be shifted, one that was fairly important which fortunately he moved to this morning.

"There is one more item on this morning's agenda," his aide said. "There is the schedule for the new Council Season.

Sarek glanced over it. He had approved it weeks ago. "What of it?"

"T'Pau has rejected this item." The aide pointed to it delicately. "She has insisted upon its withdrawal.

Sarek looked and drew up. The "item" was the introduction of his son to be formally sealed to Council. "I will not withdraw it."

For a moment the aide hesitated. Then he ventured. "I can not refuse T'Pau request. She is matriarch."

"No, you cannot. But you can relate **my** refusal to her demand. I have every intention of formally presenting Spock to Council as my rightful son and heir. There is no more precedent for T'Pau's refusal to acknowledge that traditional rite than there is for her to refuse to accept my bondmate into the Clan."

"Very well, I will relate your position," the aide conceded. "But I suspect this will not be the end of it."

"Let T'Pau relate her reasons directly to **me**," Sarek said curtly. "Such a debate is long overdue. I will welcome such a challenge."

The aide stiffened fractionally at Sarek's choice of word, only a slight inflection different than once used to refer to something not discussed in polite Vulcan society. He bowed fractionally as Sarek exited for his meeting. "I trust it will not be delayed much longer," the aide said, reaching for the communications terminal.

xxx

"You're home," Amanda said, delighted, looking up from her work. She had a netbook before her on the kitchen table, various reference materials in printed form to refer to, a cup of tea beside her, and lunch simmering on the stove. No Vulcan would combine so many unrelated activities in tandem. No Vulcan would smile as she did. She had her hair pulled back but not braided. She was barefoot, sandals kicked to one side. She was wearing shorts and a Harvard University t-shirt, much faded. She could not have appeared more human, or less like a proper Vulcan wife. Or more unequal to a match up with T'Pau.

As much as Sarek disliked that his wife was so far excluded from her rightful place in the clan, he would not wish for the changes in her behavior that certain Vulcans would hold her to should she assume such a place. He had chosen her as she was. Heretical or not, he had no wish for her to change.

But perhaps that made him all the more determined that Spock should attain every Vulcan position that he was heir to.

"Where is Spock," Sarek asked, putting his bundle on the table.

"The wunderkind is still napping," Amanda said. "Thank goodness. He has worn me out this morning. I don't suppose **you'd** care to stick around this afternoon?" she asked, perfunctorily.

"In point of fact, I do plan to. I brought him some new materials," Sarek said, noting the satchel, "for Spock's perusal, since he completed the last so quickly. I thought to attend him."

"You mean it?" Amanda said. "You going to stay and play with us?"

Sarek set his mouth, just briefly, over this characterization. "Yes."

"Well, what do you know," Amanda said. "It must be a slow day at Council. And on the Federation front."

"In some respects, yes." He looked at his wife for a moment. "Since I plan to spend the afternoon with Spock, perhaps **you** would care to spend some of that time in your own pursuits. You have occasionally expressed that there are things you find difficult to do when Spock accompanies you."

"Let me get this straight," Amanda said, her jaw dropping. "You're offering to not just join us, but to babysit? You? All alone and by yourself?"

Sarek met her with a straight face. "Is there a problem?"

She sat back, smiling and shaking her head. "Once I make sure that it isn't snowing outside, no, not at all."

"It doesn't-" he caught the drift of her meaning, and his mouth set a bit. "I **do** spend time with Spock."

"I know. But I am pretty sure you have **never** offered to be a sole caretaker for an entire afternoon. Is your insurance paid up? How's your heart? Have you taken your vitamins this morning? Do you have any last words, or preferences for final rites? And what does the condemned man wish as a last meal?"

"I will not be alone," Sarek said. "I-Chiya will be here."

Amanda pulled a face. "Good luck with that. He considers himself off duty in the afternoon. Though no doubt he'll be more cooperative with **you** than with me. All right. I can't resist the opportunity to get out for awhile without a toddler in tow. I won't leave you alone for the whole afternoon – I want you to survive and return to do this again. But I'll take off for an hour or so."

"As you wish," Sarek said.

Amanda tilted her head and looked at him closely. "Are you all right?"

"I am in perfect health."

"Really? You seem…"

Sarek stared at her intently.

"Just a little…upset about something," she finished.

"I am unchanged."

"If you say so." There was a chime from the monitor. "The monster awakes," she said.

"Why do you characterize him so?" Sarek asked.

Amanda paused in picking up her dishes. "Does it bother you?"

"It seems an odd way to refer to our child."

"I'm sorry if I offended you," she said. "It was…a term of affection. Regardless of how it sounds. If **you** were around him as much as **I** am, you might realize how appropriate it can be," she looked at him again, puzzled. "What's happened to your sense of humor lately? And don't tell me Vulcans don't have one."

"I simply do not think such a statement is humorous."

"You wait till you've watched him for an afternoon. Look, I had better retrieve him or he's going to get into some mischief." She came back with Spock in tow, still half asleep and decked out in a long sleeved shirt that proclaimed him part of Harvard's class of 2250.

"What is that he is wearing?" Sarek asked.

"Isn't it cute?" Amanda smiled. "A colleague sent it to me from Earth."

"It is entirely inappropriate. Spock will **not** be attending Harvard."

"How do you know?" Amanda asked cluelessly. "He might. Spock do you want to go to the school your mother went to? Or your father's?" She boosted Spock up into his chair. "You are getting way too big for me, kiddo."

Spock looked more interested in his lunch. "I will stay home with I-Chiya."

"A wise choice," Amanda concurred. "Formal education is over-rated. I'm sure your sehlat can teach you all you need to know."

"Amanda," Sarek said.

"Fine, then **you** can recycle some laundry for him. Because that's all that's left until I do another cycle. He went through practically every stitch he has this morning. Sarek, it's a shirt, **not** a referendum on his educational future."

"Does he always eat like that?" Sarek asked, suddenly seeing Spock as if for the first time, as T'Pau might see him.

"He is two, Sarek. It's going to be a while before we send him out to a diplomatic dinner. I think he does pretty well. And anytime you want to address his table manners, you are welcome to do so."

He watched disapprovingly as Amanda mopped Spock's face and hands with a damp cloth. "There, good enough even for Vulcans. Spock, guess what? Your father is going to play with you this afternoon."

Sarek raised a brow at that characterization, but chose not to contest it. "I brought you some new puzzles, Spock." He took the first box out of the bag.

Spock raised his brows, took the box and slid out of his chair, walked to a clear spot on the floor and prepared to upend the pieces.

"Let us do it on the table, Spock," Sarek said, who had taken out his monitoring device, once he used to record diplomatic meetings, out of his tunic, preparatory to putting it on the table.

"He can't work on the **table**," Amanda said, as if the suggestion were entirely unreasonable.

"Why not?" Sarek asked.

"Because he can hardly see over the table's edge. He can't see all the pieces as completely as he can on the floor. This is how he does these puzzles."

Spock meanwhile, had dumped the pieces onto the floor and was surveying them with a judicial eye.

"When you deal with a toddler, Sarek," Amanda said. "You get used to sitting on the ground. You two have fun. I'm going to recycle his laundry."

Sarek watched while Spock stood above the puzzle pieces for what seemed like a long time. He tilted his head one way, and another, while he reviewed each one. Then he dropped to his knees and proceeded to put them in perfect order. There was not a wasted motion, not a hesitation. Nor did he say a word until the puzzle was completed. Then he turned to Sarek, and said, "There. It is done."

"That was… excellent work, Spock," Sarek said, slightly stunned. He checked to ensure the recorder was still running, or he might not have believed it himself.

"More," said Spock.

Sarek handed him the next one.

The same thing happened. Spock opened the box and spilled the pieces on the ground, seeming to take a certain amount of pleasure in the crash. But then he stood and looked intently at each piece. One by one he cataloged them, seemed to assign each its logical relation to the other. Only then did he drop to his knees, and then finally to his stomach, and put each in its place.

Sarek handed him another and Spock shook his head violently, so that his shoulders and then his whole body shook with the motion. "**You** do."

"I wish for you to do it, Spock."

"You have to play – to interact—**with** him Sarek," Amanda said, who had come back in.

"I want Spock to do it," Sarek said stubbornly.

"**You** do," Spock said, equally stubborn.

Amanda put a restraining hand on his arm. "You're not going to win that way. Let me," she suggested to Sarek, sotto voice, before turning to Spock. "Remember to use all your words, Spock."

"Why?"

"Because you can."

Spock considered this for a moment, then shrugged, human style. "I did two puzzles," he said. "It's father's puzzle, so he should do it."

"That's better. Perhaps your father doesn't know **how** to do the puzzle, Spock," she said, while Sarek's brows rose to his bangs and he drew a breath as if to correct her. She elbowed him sharply in the side, so that he lost the breath he had taken before he could correct her. "He needs **you** to show him how to do it."

That appealed to Spock, and he proceeded to do just that.

"First you throw the pieces down," he said.

Sarek handed the box to Spock, who shook his head. "**You** do."

Amanda bit back a smile.

Sarek raised a brow, but dumped the puzzle pieces on the ground.

"Then you look," Spock said.

"Why do you look, Spock?" Amanda asked, since a glance to her husband told her Sarek was not likely to humor the child.

"Because you have to see where they must go," Spock said.

"But how do you know where they belong, Spock?" Sarek asked, falling into this style of questioning.

"Because you **see**."

Sarek looked to Amanda, who shrugged her shoulders, declining to delve further into this.

"Show me," Sarek asked.

Spock dropped to his knees. "This one goes first," Spock said.

"Why does it go first?"

Spock gave him an impatient look. "Because it does. **You** pick the next one."

Sarek deliberately chose the piece that went third.

"No. That's wrong. This one goes next," Spock said.

"Why does it?" Sarek asked.

"Because it does." Spock turned to Amanda. "He doesn't know how to **play** this game."

"He wants you to **help** him."

"**You** do," Spock said to Amanda. Amanda bit her lip and looked at Sarek. "Spock, your father wants you to-"

"**You** do."

"Oh, all right," Amanda said. "I think you're asking too much of him, Sarek, to expect him to explain how he does it."

As Sarek watched, he saw that she did exactly what Spock had done. She surveyed all the pieces, looking at each one. Then after a moment she reached for one, hesitated, looked again, then reached for another.

"You are **slow**," Spock said. "Slow, slow, slow. And you were going to pick the wrong one."

"Hey," Amanda said, slightly nettled. "Vulcan symbolic logic is **not** my forte."

"Where did you learn it?" Sarek asked.

"Where do you think?" Amanda said. Sarek expected her to reiterate some course she had taken, somewhere or another or a book that she had read. "I read the instructions on the back of the box, the first time you brought these home for Spock. I'm good with Tinkertoys too," she said with modest pride, "mostly because I end up picking them up all over the house, since a certain **person** doesn't always put them away."

Spock meanwhile had finished the puzzle. "I want juice," he told his mother.

"'I want' is not a gentleman like way of expressing yourself." Amanda countered. "'Please may I have some,' is what I expect to hear."

Spock repeated the phrase, but instead of in Federation Standard, said it in Vulcanur, without the please, since Vulcan did not have that phrase.

"Smart aleck," Amanda said, but she rose and got him the juice.

Sarek had one more puzzle in his box, but Spock adamantly refused to do it. "Enough."

"Spock-"

"Kroykah!" Spock said, to Sarek's flabbergasted face.

"Hey, I **never** taught him that," Amanda said.

"Spock, you will do as you are told," Sarek decreed.

"I wouldn't go there," Amanda warned. "You don't want to see a two year old in a meltdown. Not with I-Chiya off duty'"

"Boring," Spock said. "I want I-Chiya."

Refusing to be defeated by a two year old, Sarek insisted.

Amanda intervened again. "Spock, if you do the puzzle for your father, then we will do something else."

Spock considered this for a good ten seconds, his head tilted to one side. Then he nodded once, human style. He took the box and tossed the pieces on the floor with a vengeance. With barely a glance at the pieces, he took one up.

"That is incorrect," Sarek said, then realized that he should not have spoken. This was to be a true test of Spock's abilities, and he was just supposed to record the event.

Spock gave him a dirty look and took up another. Sarek watched, sure Spock was deliberately sabotaging the completion of the puzzle, since he had done three without error. Then he realized that Spock was doing it in reverse order. Amanda, realizing it at the same time, laughed. "That is so **clever** of you, Spock. Well done!"

With a little smirk that showed he was pleased with his joke, Spock finished the puzzle post haste, now that his joke was well understood. Then he broke it apart with a tearing crash. "Done," he said. "I want I-Chiya."

"Yes, you are." Amanda agreed. "I think it is time for some exercise. Why don't you take him for a walk in the garden, Sarek? I recycled his laundry, if he gets himself dirty, which he will. And since you are going to be around, I'm going out to run some errands for a couple of hours."

Abruptly reminded of the time, Sarek noticed his wife was now neatly dressed for going out.

She smiled at him, as if noting his sudden unease.

"Don't worry," she said. "Just call in the sehlat reinforcements when Spock gets to be too much for you. I do."

"She does," Spock confirmed.

"Be strong," Amanda said, as she walked out the door.

Sarek did the next logical thing. On the way to the gardens for their walk, he called for the most experienced child care provider in the family to accompany them. Although highly irritated by the general air of incompetence displayed by his child's adult caretakers, I-Chiya went along.

_To be continued…._

_thanks for all the reviews..._


	3. Chapter 3

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 3**

However brilliant in diplomacy he had come to be, Sarek had begun as a headstrong, stubborn child, sure of his own self worth, carelessly facile in every endeavor, seldom even momentarily thwarted. Relations between himself and T'Pau had been contentious at times due to that from his infancy. Even though she was _Matriarch of All the Vulcan Clans_ and his maternal parent, while he was merely _Head of Council_ and her son, he had not always taken **her** council - and never blindly - much less always done her bidding. Never more so than in the recent event of his marriage.

That she was the only person on Vulcan now who **could **overrule him did not facilitate their relationship. Regardless of all that, to put it in simple terms, she ranked him.

Vulcans are supposed to be driven entirely by logic. They take some Vulcan pride in that. But in clan matters, tradition could play an even larger role than logic. It had been Sarek's break with tradition in taking a human as consort that caused the ultimate contention between T'Pau and himself. T'Pau had never-the-less not let it become a final break between them. Her only son was too valuable to her and to Vulcan, with too vaulted and necessary a position in the clan, to disown or refute over what she regarded would ultimately be a transient temporary folly.

She still spoke to him, and he to her, on matters of business. Though their conversations tended to be terse and to the point.

But she had never intended his transient folly to ever be accorded permanent status, as he now sought to do.

As Matriarch of all clans, and responsible for clan adoptions and marriages, she had never accepted Amanda into their clan. Never acknowledged that Amanda had ever held a role in Sarek's life larger than consort, an association that fell far short of that of a wife. Even after Sarek and Amanda had been through a Pon Far together, and Amanda had borne him a child, even though their undeniable bond proclaimed that she was in truth, a wife, in all Vulcan aspects but the legal one, all the formal documents related to Amanda's status stalled on T'Pau's desk, and never came back to Council.1

And Amanda stayed a consort.

Sarek had argued with T'Pau. To his mind, he had carried every logical point. But all to no matter. T'Pau had refused to act.

And although Sarek had been sure he could have forced her to do so, he had… hesitated… on taking it further.

For one thing, Amanda simply didn't know all the Council politics going on behind her back. And Sarek had never cared to trouble her with them until he had them solved.

For another, he had married her knowing she was human. At times her humanity was inconvenient, perplexing, even exasperating. But it was an intrinsic part of her nature. Though as a Vulcan he had never believed or trusted in the fickle and contradictory emotion humans called love, believing it to be unVulcan in its often transitory nature, and **he** would never characterize Vulcan devotion with that term, never-the-less he cherished his wife. Regardless of all her human ways, he would never have her change.

She was not an ersatz Vulcan. Short of those basic needs that his biology would dictate of her, he did not choose to make her one.

Part of his mind held a trace of concern that if she adapted Vulcan ways even so far as to be acceptable to Council, she would, in some respects, cease to be herself. Perhaps it was self-indulgent, or wrong. Un-Vulcan in him. But he wanted her **as** herself.

Not that Amanda might even be inclined to change, perhaps not even enough to affect the behaviors necessary to sit in Council. He had promised her, upon their marriage that he would not expect her to be Vulcan. Three years immersion in his culture had resulted in her slowly adapting some Vulcan conventions, but largely at her own choice. In the non-clan, largely academic or Federation political circles she moved in, her failure to adopt full Vulcan ways was not a requirement, nor even particularly noticed or expected.

In clan matters, particularly in the political environment of the day, one that T'Pau had partly engendered with her rejection of Amanda, that would not be the case. Amanda's failure to be Vulcan would be counted and used against her. Even against him. And affect their son. He knew that would distress her, and perhaps cause her to change, if only for Spock and himself. He did not want her distressed by some Vulcans' failure to embrace the best of his culture, a culture she professed to admire, to provoke her to change more than her wont.

So in some respects, T'Pau's refusal to accept Amanda into the clan had not had the ultimate damning effect the matriarch had intended. In one respect, it had rankled Sarek to his traditional Vulcan core. But in another, it suited him very well.

But if he had declined to battle T'Pau to defeat on that front, he had not reached that same conclusion for his son. If Spock were fully Vulcan, as he appeared to be, in abilities, in intelligence, in looks, in temperament, in biology, then he not only deserved but **required** a full clan inheritance.

And that was an entirely different matter. Sarek would challenge anyone to secure that for him.

If T'Pau thought that she could stalemate him on Spock's acceptance because she had done so with Amanda's, she was due to find out otherwise. His motivations in this instance were entirely different.

When he received a formal summons to attend T'Pau, through her Palace guard, in the ancient form, he knew the battle had begun.

Such a summons required he attend her at her Palace, in full ceremonial garb. She could have just as easily met him in his or her Council office, in the normal course of their day. That she used the old ceremonial rules, that she chose the encounter would take place on her grounds, that she dictated that he attend her and she receive him as subordinate to Matriarch, meant she was pulling out all stops early in her campaign. Sarek noted all this grimly, but was undeterred.

He prepared for the meeting by decking himself in the full ceremonial dress which a formal audience with T'Pau required. The morning that he did so, Amanda watched him, both amused by and admiring the opulent extravagance. She knew he tolerated such shows as traditional necessities, but she couldn't help but be diverted by her adopted planet's odd mixture of high technology and ancient custom.

She herself had dressed that morning merely for chasing after a toddler, if her skimpy shorts and t-shirt – this one said "I'm a Vulcan love-slave", chosen with regard to Vulcan's heated ambient temperatures could be regarded as any dress at all.

"Make sure you pause for some reason as you are going into Council Keep, so the tourists can get a good holo of you," she teased him as he wrestled on a heavily embroidered tunic. "Such an elaborate outfit deserves full appreciation. And to be memorialized in some tourist's holobook."

"I am not going to Council," Sarek said and added, looking at her narrowly, "And I don't like that garment."

Amanda looked down at herself. "A friend sent it to me from Earth. They are all the rage in romance novel circles. Apparently we have spawned quite a little cottage industry, my husband. She thought that as the **instigator** of the genre I should have one."

"I don't understand," Sarek said. "And I don't believe I **care** to understand. And that shirt is still unsuitable."

"I would never wear it out of the **house**," Amanda said. "And I won't be wearing it for long. I guarantee you that in less than an hour, it is going to be covered with sand, fruit juice, or even less pleasant substances, and I'll change it for another in one of the half dozen clothes changes I am daily forced to make to keep up with your son. Why should I ruin my good clothes in close quarter combat with a toddler?"

"It is not suitable to wear even **within** the house. It's **hardly** suitable before a Vulcan child."

"Sarek, he can't read," she said with elaborate patience.

He rounded on her, struck by that thought. "Do you know that he can't read? Are you sure?"

That gave her pause. She thought back to Spock's behavior, seriously considering his abilities. "He has only just graduated from words to sentences," she said. "And he often puts his shoes on the wrong feet. When he will wear them at all. He's a toddler. "

"That is not my question."

"He has your eidetic memory," Amanda replied, as if accusingly. "I have no idea, when we are reading stories, when he takes over and relates them to me, whether he is actually reading the words or recalling them verbatim from memory. Do **you** know if he can read?"

"No," Sarek answered. "I had never considered the matter until now. And now that I have… Amanda, take that off."

"I don't know either," she said, still distracted by the prospect. "I'll test him today."

"If you are not sure, you should not wear that before Spock."

"Oh, very well." She said, pulling it over her head. "I'll save it just for you," she said mischievously.

"I don't care for it."

"You have **no** sense of humor this morning," she complained. "You haven't for days. It is getting old. I would never have married you if you couldn't take a joke. When you go all Vulcan on me like this, I feel like our bonding was conducted under entirely false pretenses."

"I am attending T'Pau this morning," he said.

"So **that** explains the fancy dress. And your lack of humor." She had exchanged her t-shirt for a pink top that proclaimed, over the image of a sparkly crown, '_I'm a Vulcan princess._' "What about this one? Do I pass muster for attending your son?"

Sarek glanced at it, and reflected that if T'Pau continued to have her way, the statement would never become true. "This is from the same acquaintance? I suggest you seriously reconsider your choice of friends."

"Oh, don't be so stuffy. She went to a romance novel convention – she writes them in her spare time, though not ones about us - and couldn't resist."

"I suggest that in future she try. And how does a Harvard professor have **that** much spare time?"

"We are not all swots," Amanda said with dignity. "**I** think they are funny. And so would **you** if you weren't going to visit your mother. Nothing puts you in a worse mood. Give her my **love**, by the way," she added, emphasizing the word with a trace of malicious mischief.

"I will convey to her your respectful clan greetings," Sarek said sententiously.

"By all means," she said, but her smile had faded.

Sarek looked at her, seeing the trace of sadness in her Earth-sky eyes and mentally consigned his mother to a legendary Vulcan hell that would make Dante's ninth circle look like a stint on an Orion pleasure planet. "She will accept you." Sarek recklessly promised her, taking her hand in his.

"Oh…It doesn't matter to me any longer," Amanda said, blinking away sudden tears. "Though I **do** worry about Spock's acceptance." She turned to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. "But you are all of Vulcan that I need."

When he bent to kiss her, he could feel the trace of tears on her cheek transfer to his own.

xxx

"I will not accept him," T'Pau said hours later, contradicting the very essence of the promise he had made to his wife hours earlier.

"You must," Sarek replied. "He is my son."

Their encounter had taken place, not in her garden court accompanied by a service of tea, which was how T'Pau usually conducted Council and clan business, but in her formal audience chambers, ones that had gone largely unused for millennia. T'Pau had been obdurate in her insistence on form. She had met him in full ceremonial robes, requiring he accord to the same rigid traditions. He knelt to her and intoned the formal acknowledgment of her as matriarch, and submitted to her tacit mind touch, though he shielded so that she garnered nothing from it. The encounter had been rife with all the symbolism that such a formal audience dictated. But none of that made any impression on Sarek.

The necessity of yielding to the most inane of diplomatic formalities from various worlds had long inured Sarek even to those of his own world, at least at times when he was rationally opposed to the reasons for them. He had developed an objective view of Vulcan custom that few Vulcans would have had the experience or practice to attain. It had inoculated him, as it were, from the blindly traditional yielding to her that T'Pau had perhaps hoped to elicit from him. No doubt it was only her first salvo, but Sarek gave her points for trying. Even if she did not understand he had gone far beyond it.

"He is **her** son," she insisted. "Your choice of consort is a childish folly that I refuse to sanction."

"Amanda is not consort, but wife," Sarek insisted.

"I have never accepted your arrangement as a marriage. Nor will I accept this child as your legal heir. And never will he be mine."

"He will."

T'Pau drew a breath and mastered control. Looking down at his bent but obdurate head, she gestured him abruptly to a chair. "Sarek. You must give up this ridiculous obsession. It has gone on long enough. I urge you to take a Vulcan wife as bondmate. Provide our world with a true Vulcan heir."

Sarek settled in one, considering that in her offering it he had won the first round. "Spock is Vulcan. He is worthy."

"How can you make such a statement, when all facts fail to substantiate it? He is a human hybrid. Would you dilute the blood of Surak, the heritage of our warrior ancestors, of your own father, with the humanity that we all scorn?"

Sarek met her eyes calmly. "Some human practices are scornful. All humans are not. And Spock is Vulcan dominate. He carries the Vulcan inheritance in full. He is **mine**, T'Pau."

T'Pau's mouth curled in disgust. "I had heard the child was so defective he could not even speak, not even her own barbaric tongue."

Sarek raised a brow, wondering which of the advisors he and Amanda has sought had broken confidentiality. "That is not true. There was but a temporary delay in his language acquisition, understandable given the circumstances of his exposure to two such dissimilar languages. But now he is fluent in both Vulcanur and English. Given the differences between the two, that must be considered a considerable accomplishment."

"What it reveals is that her human contaminations will forever adversely affect him. He is not Vulcan. And he can never be Vulcan."

"I disagree. His intelligence has proven exceptional. He shows every evidence of psi – he has an empathic link to I-Chiya, just as any Vulcan child would. He responds to the parental bond. The human elements in his constitution are …negligible."

"Does she accept that?" T'Pau asked, her eyes flashing. "Not from what I have heard of her."

"Her name is Amanda," Sarek said, flashing briefly into temper.

"I will not name her, and I insist that **you** refrain from mentioning that barbaric name in my presence further."

"Her name is Amanda," Sarek repeated. "And have the courtesy to make such statements from personal knowledge of her," he added testily, "and if you refuse to make her acquaintance, then do not make them at all."

"I do not choose to do so, nor do I choose to have such a human raise an heir to Vulcan. Is **she** willing to be a negligible influence in his life? No," T'Pau pronounced, "She is his primary influence. She is with the child every moment. It is **her** influence he models."

"It will be my influence that he models. I will see to that."

"By the very nature of the environment in which you have allowed him to develop, he is contaminated. As you increasingly prove yourself to be."

Sarek refused to be drawn by that. "Amanda does not contaminate him. Nor does she contaminate me."

"You show your contamination by living with that human."

"You **sent** me to live with humans, T'Pau, when you made me ambassador to their Federation."

"I did not send you to **breed** with them. I did not send you to bring one home to pollute our bloodlines."

"Yet Spock **is** of your bloodline," Sarek said, sitting back. "He is my son, heir to our clan. And I will present him as such to Council."

"I forbid it."

"I am Head of Council," Sarek said stubbornly. "It is my right to present my son to Council as my legal heir on the opening of the Council of his third year. The next formal opening of Council, I **will** do so. You cannot forbid it. That is tradition."

"If you attempt to do so, Sarek, I will renounce him. Personally and publicly. Before all."

Sarek stared at her a long minute. "You have no grounds to do so."

"The circumstances of his birth are grounds enough."

"Not **legally**," Sarek countered. "Renounce him if you will, T'Pau. I will present Spock regardless. It is my right. Leave it to Council to determine tradition. I lead Council."

"I will put it to the Council to prevent it."

"And I will oppose you," He sat back, raising a brow, facing off at her. "Tradition is against you."

"You can speak to me of tradition in this?"

"I can and will."

"You will split the Council."

"Then it is past time that were done," Sarek said impatiently. "I will not retract."

"And I will not have him," T'Pau said. "Not a human as heir. And if you force it upon Council, I will stop you."

"You can try," Sarek challenged. "And be prepared to accept the consequences." He rose to leave without any formal ceremony, his position plain in that action. If tradition were to abandon him, he would forfeit tradition.

"Kroykah!" T'Pau called after his broad back as he departed.

But he refused to attend, letting her draw the appropriate conclusion.

_To be continued…_

_thanks for the reviews..._

1 See _One girl, Human_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 4**

One good thing about the Vulcan parental bond. It provides an unreasoning child with an undercurrent of emotional security that generally precludes the kind of hysterical tantrums common to human children when their usual caretaker is momentarily away. Spock did not yet pay any more overdue attention to Amanda's walking out the garden court door than he had when she went up to recycle his laundry. Sarek was too Vulcan to even consider the alternatives should Spock had been more human, but had he done so, he would have been grateful.

With Amanda gone, Sarek forwarded the recording of Spock's puzzle activities to Subor. Then he was determined to replace Spock's heretical Harvard class t-shirt with suitable Vulcan attire.

This seemingly innocuous action precipitated a momentary crisis. Sarek was not very experienced with shirts that required being pulled over the head rather than unfastening at the seams. Or how one removes them from children. He made the mistake of pulling the shirt up before taking Spock's arms out of it, and suddenly discovered how many arms a squirming two year old buried in an upended t-shirt could have. Spock didn't help the matter, wriggling and howling "Too early! Too early!" in Vulcanur by which Sarek deduced meant that Spock was both not quite ready for the operation and too stressed out from being buried alive to remember 'all his words'.

Alerted by Spock's distress, I-Chiya came bounding through the garden court doors into the house, hot-footed it up the stairs, panting heavily, and charged into Spock's room, pushing his big head between Sarek and Spock to determine what was wrong.

"Kroykah, I-Chiya," Sarek said, over-stressed himself.

The sehlat settled a few feet away, whining uneasily.

In spite of the shouting and the squirming, Sarek managed to recover his Vulcan calm enough to think the problem through logically, pull the shirt down, take Spock's arms out of the sleeves, and then pull the shirt back up over his head.

Spock sputtered as his head came free, and he shook his tousled feather-straight hair, so different from his father's curls and waves, back into pristine lines. He glared at his father through slitted black eyes, his faced still flushed green from his exhortations and said.

"**Mother** knows how to undress me! I want **her**."

Sarek found himself a little short of breath after that operation as well. He refrained from expressing the heretical truth that, at the moment, **he** wanted her too. "Indeed she does. But you are undressed now. She'll be back shortly," Sarek said. "Now, as soon as you dress, we are going for a walk. You would like that, would you not, Spock?"

"So long as you don't take any more **shirts** off me," Spock huffed, still raggedly trying to catch his breath. He tugged at the one in Sarek's hands. "I do it myself!"

"By all means," Sarek agreed, surrendering it quickly. He didn't even comment on the fact that Spock's lineup of the seams left something of Vulcan precision to be desired. I-Chiya's nosing himself into the operation didn't help either.

One advantage of being a Vulcan, on Vulcan. In spite of his lack of skill dealing with treacherous human t-shirts, Sarek was perfectly adapted for taking a small Vulcan child out on the Forge, particularly when accompanied by a sehlat protector. He could thoroughly wear Spock out in a way that his human mother never could.

Once past the garden walls, outside on the Forge where Amanda never took him, Spock stood transfixed by the wide sweep of the desert stretching out to nearly every horizon.

And for the first time, meeting Spock's amazed and awed eyes, Sarek felt what it was like to share the Forge with his son, indeed to experience Spock not as an infant, or a baby, someone to care for and watch over, but as someone to associate and share things with. For the first time, he felt not so much that he had a child, but rather a son to follow in his footsteps.

"Where does it end?" Spock asked, staring around him, stunned and amazed.

"It does not," Sarek said, surveying it with similar pride. "This is your heritage, Spock."

Spock considered this. "I-Chiya is mine. He is hairy," he concluded. "Don't have no tage."

Brought back to Vulcan, as it were, Sarek clarified his comments for the level of a toddler. "I meant that the Forge belongs to you, and you to it."

Spock now looked around the Forge like a farmer considering a plot of land, evaluated this grandiose statement and rejected it on practical means. "It is too big," he said. "I can't take it home with me."

"The Forge **is** your home."

"Am I going to sleep here?" Spock asked, wide-eyed.

"I meant the Forge is the true home of **every** real Vulcan. And you **will** sleep here. When you are five, you will spend ten days and nights on the Forge, all by yourself."

Spock shook his head, human-style, except that he refined the negative by adding his shoulders down to his whole body, in a violent dervish that was his alone. "No."

"You will," Sarek said. "You must. And Spock, Vulcans do not shake their heads, much less their bodies when saying no."

"Why not?" Spock asked, pausing in his refutation dance.

"A simple negative statement is more than sufficient. Regardless, all Vulcan boys complete their Kahs Wan when they are five."

Spock thought about that. "Can I take I-Chiya?"

The sehlat roared in assent and nearly butted the boy off his feet with his huge head.

"You will go alone," Sarek proclaimed.

I-Chiya whined in protest.

Spock started to shake his head, his shoulders, then abruptly stopped at Sarek's raised brow. "Not me, then. I'll stay with I-Chiya," Spock said. "**You** can go," he offered generously.

"I have already done so when I was five," Sarek said.

"All alone?" Spock asked skeptically.

"The Kahs-Wan is a test that is traditionally performed alone."

"No tests for me," Spock concluded with the negative jerk of his chin to the left, expressing his "no" in true Vulcan style in spite of his next words. "I will stay with I-Chiya and Mother. They **like** me to stay with them. They don't **like** to be alone. Not like you."

"What do you mean, Spock?" Sarek asked, surprised by this.

"You go away every morning, alone. You don't come home till night. By yourself. Mother and I-Chiya and me, **we** stay together. In the house and the **gar** - den. **You** can go on a Kahs-Wan by yourself, on this Forge. Because you like that best."

Sarek blinked at that. "You don't like the Forge, Spock? It is most beautiful when enjoyed in solitary."

"With you and I-Chiya," Spock said, and hugged his pet. "It's s'kay. But lone, no."

"Speak Vulcanur," Sarek said.

"Why?"

"Because I am Vulcan, and you are Vulcan, and we are on Vulcan. And Vulcanur is our language.

"Mother speaks English. Standard."

"She speaks Vulcanur too."

"She **sings** in English," Spock said, as if this were the material point.

Sarek gave his son a sharp look. "Yes, she does," he said. "But Vulcans do not sing."

"Why not?"

"It's illogical."

"I **like** to sing."

"When you adopt the Vulcan way, you will not," Sarek said.

"Then I won't. **You** don't have to sing," Spock said generously. "Me and Mother, we will sing."

Sarek drew a breath, reminded himself he was dealing with a two-year old, and said with admirably measured calm, given the circumstances. "You will reevaluate your position when you are older, Spock. Let us go on."

"So long as I don't go alone," Spock said. And with a firm grip on I-Chiya's ruff to be sure of that, they set off.

He soon relaxed and began to explore the desert, delighting in its freedom and beauty, qualities that even Sarek could not deny. When Spock grew tired from running and chasing I-Chiya, Sarek lifted him to I-Chiya's massive neck and Spock rode him elephant style. Then the boy climbed down, swinging on his tusks, to run and romp again. Finally, he grew too tired even to ride. Warned by I-Chiya's waffling growl, Sarek caught him before Spock slid from the sehlat's neck. Sarek walked the rest of the way home through the Vulcan twilight, in peaceful meditation, Spock folded asleep in one arm, I-Chiya at his side, gazing at the stars twinkling overhead.

Amanda was looking for them by sweep gates.

"Are you crazy, being outside the gates at sunset?" she complained as Sarek came through the sweep gates. "How are you going to fend off lematya with a baby in tow?"

"There are no lematya in the immediate area," Sarek said. "And I-Chiya was with us. No harm can come to us, with I-Chiya nearby."

"Even I-Chiya can't fend off a pride of lematya, hunting in a pack."

I-Chiya roared his refutation of that insult.

"You hush, you walking carpet," Amanda said. "You'll wake the baby. I can't believe he's asleep. You're a miracle worker," she said to Sarek.

I-Chiya growled his own complaint that **he **was largely responsible for Spock's exhaustion but both adults ignored him.

Sarek preened just a little, in spite of all Vulcan control. "I told you he would be no problem."

"Did you have fun?" Amanda asked.

"It was...satisfying...to introduce Spock to the Forge for his first time," Sarek admitted.

"I'm glad you two had a real father-son moment. But I'm also glad you're home."

Sarek raised a brow in surprise as Amanda moved to take Spock from him. "I can put the child to bed. Amanda, he has grown much too heavy for you to carry."

"Oh, of course he's not," she said, her face softening as she gazed at her child he had reluctantly transferred into her arms. He realized his own was slightly numb from carrying Spock's weight. Then her eyes widened. "How in the world did you get his shirt on in such a completely screwed up way?"

Sarek flushed, then decided distraction was the better part of valor. "Did you have a pleasant afternoon?" he asked, shaking out his numbed arm surreptitiously and watching her as she cradled her sleeping son close.

She gave him a rueful smile. "I rushed home to rescue you, and you didn't need me at all. I missed him terribly," she said. She hugged Spock tight, and bending down, kissed his cheek. "How you Vulcans get under my skin."

Sarek eyed his son, decided he was well asleep, and leaned down to kiss his wife, moving to transfer the child back from her arms. "I'll take him upstairs," Sarek said. "You don't need to carry his weight."

"If you knew how often I lug him up and down," Amanda said, but she let him have Spock, taking his arm as they went upstairs. "I don't suppose you gave him an afternoon snack?"

"No," Sarek admitted.

"And no dinner?" Amanda asked and shrugged. "You get points for wearing him out, but **no** points for dressing, feeding or bathing. He's crusted with sand," she said, as Sarek laid him in his bed.

"Sand is natural to Vulcans," Sarek said, watching her deftly undress him, brush as much of the sand off him as she could, and redress him in nightclothes. "He will survive until morning."

She drew the blankets up over him, tucked him in and kissed his cheek.

"Amanda," Sarek said. He had not watched this procedure since Spock's early infancy. "You are…too demonstrative."

"How can you say that?" Amanda asked, still distracted in gazing at her child. She smoothed his tousled bangs.

"You can't hug and kiss him like that …not for much longer."

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning to him. "I hug and kiss **you**." She punctuated that statement by doing so.

"You are my bondmate."

"Well, I'm his **mother**." Amanda said as if that settled that. They flicked out the lights and filed out of the room.

Sarek shook his head. "We'll discuss it later."

"There's nothing to discuss," Amanda said, and then added, "Oh, no." In the kitchen below, I-Chiya was roaring insistently, demanding his dinner. "That **monster**. He's going to wake the baby." She hurried down the stairs.

"Spock will not wake. And he's not a baby any longer my wife."

"Oh, one thing you men never understand, Vulcan or human," she said over her shoulder. "He'll **always** be my baby." Sarek raised a brow at that, but Amanda was entering the kitchen, scolding the sehlat who was still howling insistently before the stasis door. "Hush up, you overgrown teddy bear. **You're** the biggest baby of them all. And Sarek may have forgotten to feed you but you know I haven't."

"I did not forget," Sarek said, nettled.

"Wuff," I-Chiya said, refuting that. He swatted at the stasis door open with one enormous paw, crowding in behind Amanda as she handed over his dinner, mindful of his tusks. Growling pleasurably he carried his prize away.

Amanda peered into the stasis unit. "Are you hungry?"

"Very. Always," he said, watching her, and thinking of something else entirely.

She looked up at him inquiringly and then smiled. "You could always give me **another** baby," she suggested. "Then I might be willing to let the one we have grow up a little sooner."

The doctors had warned Sarek that was unlikely. But then, Spock himself had been a miracle. Sarek was willing to try for two. "A tempting prospect," he said, and bent to kiss her.

When I-Chiya came back to see if there were leftovers, he discovered that no further dinner was in progress at all. If he had possessed words of his own, he might have snorted and said, "Lovebirds." As it was, he just snorted, and went out into the desert night, where the temperature was a little cooler. A lot cooler.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 5**

In conjunction with a communication from Subor, who indicated he had information to convey, Sarek returned to hear his verdict.

"I have shared your recording with a number of our educators from the primary school. They have studied it extensively," Subor began.

"Yes?" Sarek moved to sit down before the desk.

"In their opinion, the child is gifted."

Sarek raised a brow, slightly exasperated. "Subor. I am not remotely qualified as a professional educator. But even **I** reached that conclusion. The question that I brought to you was not an assessment of Spock's intellectual abilities. It was that given Spock is now fully verbal, and beyond the logical tools standard for a child of his age, what activities are appropriate?"

"In our opinion, the child should attend this school."

Sarek blinked at that. "Of course," he replied, slightly gratified in spite of having only recently reached that conclusion himself. "Before his language acquisition issues were resolved, neither his mother nor I were sure what schooling we would arrange for him. That was why we initially consulted you and others. But now that such is no longer the issue, it had not occurred to me that he would do other than attend the same institution in his third year that I did. Still, I am pleased that you concur. "

"I did not make myself clear. We believe Spock should attend now."

Sarek paused. "Now?" For a moment he wanted to ask a fellow Vulcan the heretical question as to whether Subor was serious. "That is… not traditional. Even gifted Vulcan children do not begin formal schooling before age three."

"Traditional or not, we believe it is merited."

"It is hardly …feasible." Sarek ventured, thinking back to Spock howling as he removed his shirt, to his romping after I-Chiya through the desert. "He is not yet ready for a structured environment. He is verbal, but not consistently verbal. He is…emotional. He needs more time. In six months-"

"**All** Vulcan three year olds are emotional," Subor said patiently. "And remain so until they gradually master the disciplines. And those as you **well **know consume the efforts of a Vulcan lifetime."

"I am not sure I know it **that** well," Sarek said, bristling in case the reference were an implied slight against his marriage to Amanda. Or just Subor's knowledge of his own childhood.

"I did not mean you in particular, Sarek. This is something I have to remind **many** parents, who have forgotten their own early struggles. We are all emotional. We **master** control. "

"There is a difference," Sarek turned slightly away, remembering Amanda's softened face as she hugged and kissed their son. "With Spock so recently verbal, I have hardly begun to structure his behavior in accordance with those disciplines. And my plans to begin this in a normal way were disrupted by his unusual accomplishments with the first tools I had ventured to introduce. He has spent most of his time with his mother, who has different behavioral standards. I would prefer to acquaint him with …standard Vulcan proprieties… **before** he is expected to function as a Vulcan in Vulcan society."

"Mastery of the disciplines is best taught by those trained to do so," Subor dismissed.

Sarek set his mouth. "You do not understand. There is a difference. Spock has two heritages. His mother does not model Vulcan behavior. His actions, even his thought processes, sometimes, even often, reflect her influences."

"Sarek, Vulcan disciplines are strong enough to contain even **Vulcan** passions," Subor said dryly. "I foresee no issues in controlling less volatile human ones."

_You don't know his mother_, Sarek thought. "Perhaps not. But I am not certain his mother would favor his formal schooling coming much sooner than anticipated."

Subor raised a brow. "She is an educator herself. Surely she would approve."

"I do not know," Sarek admitted. "Knowledge and Vulcan disciplines are taught together in Vulcan schools. The one she would not object to. The other…even **I** am not sure how readily Spock can adopt the other at so very young an age. We still consider him…" Sarek's mouth tightened over the characterization, "barely past infancy."

"I realize his abrupt transition to speech has left you perceiving and dealing with him slightly longer in that mindset. And that makes this further transition more difficult."

"What is the advantage of Spock attending school earlier than is traditional? And why?" Sarek asked, thinking this would be Amanda's first question.

"His thought processes are clearly advanced enough to benefit from formal education."

"You do not suggest this because he is, in some ways, developmentally delayed enough to require extra tuition to catch up?" Sarek asked warily. "Or because he is…emotional?"

"His verbal skills **are** obviously inconsistent, but given he is simultaneously acquiring two such different languages, that is understandable. It would be better if his mother would refrain from speaking Federation Standard, or English."

"She tried, at first. She soon abandoned it as impractical. Humans do not have Vulcan controls."

"It is rather a moot point by now anyway. There was some discussion to the reverse: that given humans are shorter lived than Vulcans, Spock's development is accelerated. But the point was made by others that Spock's physiological composition is almost entirely Vulcan. The conclusion is that the child is simply gifted, unlikely as some find this. His emotional development, or lack of control thereof, is not our concern at this time. We are concerned with his logical reasoning."

Sarek's eyes narrowed, but he let that pass.

"Since his mind is developing to understand the logical disciplines in a natural way, he would benefit from having his thoughts formed to embrace them in traditional modes, rather than developing them …haphazardly. And he will need all his logical disciplines to contain his emotions. Even from knowing his father, I would anticipate that, regardless of his mother's heritage."

"You do not need to be insulting," Sarek said, but without heat. He knew that Subor spoke from personal, and even affectionate knowledge of his own childhood. "You deduce this from seeing him complete some puzzles," Sarek said, slightly uncomfortable at relating this, "But Spock's behavior otherwise is not always logical. I cannot say it is even generally logical. He's… still very young."

"And given his age, that his understandable. We do believe Spock should come in for testing so that we can determine more accurately his level of development."

"Testing," Sarek said. He had another mental image of Spock howling the school down in a two year old tantrum. "I am not sure he is ready even for **that**. In fact, I believe such structured testing might be beyond him at this point."

"The tests will be geared to his developmental level."

"I do not know," Sarek said, torn and not wanting an unprepared Spock to prejudice his entire academic future by an untoward display. "I believe Spock still needs more time at home. I am not sure what benefit accelerating Spock's formal education will gain as opposed to him attending school at the traditional time."

"The gains should be obvious."

"What I wished," Sarek repeated doggedly, "And still wish was for methods to allow me to **prepare** him for attending formal school. And other societal requirements. To give him tools to begin his acquaintance with the logical disciplines in a way that his mother, being human, cannot. **Not** to begin that study six months before even a fully Vulcan child, with all the advantages that implies, would attempt it."

"But you have a full time career, Sarek. You have not the time. And Spock's development indicates he is ready, and ready now. If you fail to do it now, you risk him adapting unsuitable thought processes and dangerous influences."

Sarek shook his head, human style, at that unwelcome thought, before catching himself in that unconscious human imitation. He flushed at his own lapse. "You make a valid point," he said reluctantly. "But I will have to consider this further. And I must discuss it with his mother. She will have questions as well. I am not sure she would be amenable to this proposal. She herself has taken a sabbatical from her own teaching and research to care for Spock. The academy is not expecting her return until then. She would have to be convinced of the advantages of changing her plans."

"I would be honored to discuss the matter with her. And perhaps see her…interact with the child, and display something of her intuitive methods. Perhaps she would be willing to be tested as well."

Sarek thought of her kissing his son's cheek and flushed a faint shade of green. "Why?"

"It would give us insight in evaluating Spock. I would also think she would welcome the opportunity to return to her chosen profession."

"If she wished to do so, she could have arranged child care for Spock," Sarek said curtly. "I would still prefer knowing of other alternatives. You have given me none."

"Our first recommendation is that Spock attend school. I can make no other without further testing."

"I will consider your recommendation," Sarek said. "I will discuss it with Amanda."

"Do not let it go too long, Sarek," Subor said. "A child grows quickly."

"**That** is apparently the problem," Sarek said, and took his leave.

xxx

Sarek would have welcomed the trip home to be a bit longer, giving him more time to consider how to broach Subor's proposal to his unsuspecting wife. When he arrived home, the Fortress was empty. He wandered through the gardens, following the tug of the bond in his mind. Then he heard the faint sound of voices raised in song, chorusing something about picnic time for Teddy Bears. The song grew louder as he came closer. He came across his wife, child and pet in a clearing in Amanda's infant rose garden. The garden was a little older than Spock, but in spite of its newness, the roses had grown wonderfully well in only a slightly modified Vulcan climate, and they reached in some cases high over even Sarek's head.

Amanda had spread a blanket on the ground, and had a basket open with fruit and bottles of juice. There was a bundle of paper Terran children's books, and musical instruments: his old practice lyre from his own childhood that he had given to Amanda to learn on, a chime, various small percussive instruments in an impromptu rhythm band. The Paddington bear that some human colleague of his wife's had given Spock upon his birth was propped against the basket. But the truly amazing thing was his family's attire. Amanda, Spock and even I-Chiya were wearing crowns and garlands of roses and other flowers. Even the stuffed bear was so adorned. The sehlat's massive dignity seemed undimmed by the flowers, but Sarek had to ratchet up his control not to let his jaw drop open at his valiant warrior pet so endowed.

Spock came running over. "We're having a Teddy Bear Picnic," he said breathlessly. "**You** can join us. But **I-Chiya** is the really truly live bear."

"I-Chiya is a sehlat," Sarek said, feeling things spiraling out of his control.

"He **looks** like a bear," Spock said. "He's **my** live teddy bear. And '_Today's the day the Teddy Bears have their picnic'_," he sang, running back to his mother.

"Can you join us for lunch?" Amanda asked, undaunted by the swirl of illogic surrounding her.

"Amanda." Sarek came over beside her, joining her on the ground, since there were no other options. And he definitely needed to be sitting down. He was feeling a little as he had felt once, when on vacation with his wife, not long after their marriage, a wave had come up in the Terran ocean and crashed over his head. The powerful force of the water, pulling him through the sea, the complete sense of something totally outside Vulcan experience, echoed his own disconcertment now. "What are you doing?"

"Having lunch," she said innocently. "Playing music. Spock does the percussion. I play the lyre, as best I can. Then I thought I'd read Spock to sleep."

"**Un** nap," Spock said. "**Dis** nap. **Anti** nap. **No** nap."

"**Very **good words," Amanda said. "But **yes**, nap. **Pro** nap," she paused and looked at Sarek.  
"What's another prefix?"

"I win! I win!" Spock chanted. "I'm better than English at you!"

"At English, than me," Amanda corrected. "I'm sure you're better at Vulcanur too," she added complacently. "But that's all right. I'm not proud."

Sarek looked over the picnic blanket. "This is so…unVulcan."

"What's unVulcan about it?" Amanda asked, looking up in astonishment. "We're not eating hamburgers and swilling beer. We're playing music and language games. Reading and singing.

"**That** is unVulcan."

"Music?" she asked in amazement. "There's nothing better for a child's intellectual development - language, math, all pattern recognition - than exposure to music. All the studies prove it."

"**Singing**," Sarek clarified.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Amanda said, nettled. "Don't you think you are being a little overly picky? Music is music. And I think it helps Spock's language skills."

"_And all the bears that ever there was, are gathered here together because today's the day the Teddy Bears have their picnic_," Spock sang in perfect English, dancing around I-Chiya, having urged the massive beast to his feet. I-Chiya tripped over his rose garland, sneezed, seized one of the pieces of fruit on the blanket and ran off with it, Spock in hot pursuit. "Mine," he called, short legs working furiously, his own rose crown tumbling to the blanket. "Mine! Mine! Mine!"

"That will wear him out," Amanda said with satisfaction. "Can I interest you in a garland?" she asked mischievously, and put Spock's discarded crown on her husband's head. "By the way, our supposition was correct."

"Which supposition?" Sarek asked, putting aside the crown. Across from him the toy bear's shoe button black eyes seemed to stare at him accusingly.

"He **can** read. At least, he can read **English**. I brought down all these books from my library – fortunately I have a ton of children's books. Lots that we haven't read so I could test that he wasn't using eidetic memory. He reads beautifully."

"What about Vulcanur?" Sarek asked.

"Well, I haven't tried that yet," she admitted. "We mostly read English storybooks. But what's the difference? If he can read English, Vulcanur won't be far behind, even if I haven't done as much with it yet. I was just reading him stories, not thinking I was teaching him to read. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he proved he can read Vulcanur too. We have us one smart kid. Well, that's not surprising, given his parents aren't too shabby in that department either."

Sarek steepled his fingers, than meditatively rubbed his brow with them. "Subor was correct."

"What?" Amanda said, looking up from pouring him some juice.

"Children grow too fast."

"**That's** no great observation," she said. "It's not even good conversation."

Sarek drew a long breath. "Amanda, I have been observing Spock, and thinking, and I have come to a decision."

She looked up from her preparations. "You mean you've come to a conclusion," she corrected absently.

He straightened and looked at her.

"Spock is my son too," she handed him juice, and a plate. "Any **decisions** that are made," she said pointedly, "will have to be – are going to be - joint ones."

"Very well," he said, setting the food aside. He had no appetite at the moment. "But I am convinced I am correct."

"What else is new?" she said dryly. "That could be blazoned across your clan shield on top of the lematya motif and the emblem of Surak. '_We are convinced we are always correct_'. You could save all your debate partners a lot of trouble just by pasting it on a placard around your forehead. And what are you talking about?"

"I believe Spock's formal education should commence."

She paused and looked up at him, "I thought Vulcan children started school at three? We haven't even decided yet that he's going to be ready to start then."

"Spock is gifted – as his competence with the logical tools he's been given demonstrates. He would benefit from early instruction."

She shrugged a shoulder, frowning slightly. "Perhaps he would, in some respects. So probably would most Vulcan children. But there must be a reason why they don't start until three. I'm sure it is even **more** an issue for Spock. Childhood is awfully short for Vulcan children. Given Spock is half human, I think he **especially** will need every day, even every second of it."

Sarek eyed her. "You were going to go back to teaching anyway when Spock began school. It is only another six months."

"Only another six months?" she said, staring at him. "Six months is a **huge** amount of time. Look how far he has come in six weeks."

"That is my concern," Sarek muttered.

"No way. I'm not going back to work early. And Spock isn't going to school early."

"I think it might be good for him."

"What do you mean, good for him?" Her eyes narrowed. "Or do you mean better for him than **I** am?"

"I did not say that."

"You didn't have to. I **saw** the way you looked when you first arrived. You practically blanched, and I can't see what we are doing that is so unVulcan."

"That you cannot is part of the problem."

"What problem?" she asked "What's going on? Suddenly, you seem a lot more concerned about how **Vulcan** I am being with Spock. Worrying about whether I kiss him, for goodness sake. You don't seem to mind it when I kiss you."

"The two are entirely different."

"Not to me, Sarek," Unconsciously, she took up the Paddington bear, and clutched it to her. "You weren't saying this a month ago, when he could hardly string a few words together. Then you were perfectly happy to have him **sequestered** here away with me."

"That is **not** true," Sarek said darkly. "Your implication is insulting. To me as well as to Spock."

"What am I suppose to deduce from yours? Now suddenly he's verbal. Suddenly he can read. And suddenly **you** want him to get on the fast track. What are you getting at? **One** day on the Forge, **one** day of father/son bonding and suddenly **you've** gone all Vulcan native in your expectations for him? Because suddenly you seem a lot more concerned about how Vulcan he is. And how Vulcan I am with him,"

"Spock does have responsibilities for which he must prepare," Sarek said tersely.

"At two?" she said incredulously.

"At three."

"He's **not** three. And he's my son too. And I'm **not** giving him up, just because one day on the Forge gave you grandiose ideas of him following in your footsteps. He can start school along with every other Vulcan kid. I'm not giving up one second of his childhood."

"If you could remain calm," Sarek suggested.

She tore the rose crown from her head, threw it to the ground and said something to him in Orion that was definitely disrespectful, as well as physically impossible for a Vulcan.

"Amanda," Sarek said, shocked. He swiftly checked to make sure that Spock was still out of earshot.

"Don't you dare patronize me. You can't spend one afternoon doing puzzles with him, take him on one walk on the Forge, not after delegating most of his care to me these last two and a half years, and then waltz in here and tell me you and Vulcan are taking him over. He's my son. I had him **first**."

Sarek stared at her a moment. "Medical science has not yet reached the point where it is natural for a father to do so," he said, deadpan.

She caught his drift and her lips twitched involuntarily. "Don't even try to make me laugh when I'm so **mad **at you."

"I regret that I offended you. But my conviction is not entirely based on my own evaluation. I spoke with Subor regarding Spock's accomplishments in symbolic logic puzzles. He believes Spock is at a window of development that requires formal education.

"Subor?" Amanda frowned. "I like him," she admitted. "I thought him very helpful when we spoke to him about Spock's language difficulties."

"Subor wishes to speak with you about it. And to test Spock further. I confess I have concerns of my own about Spock's readiness to attend school."

"And what? Then you walked in on us and panicked?"

"No," Sarek denied. "But I concede Subor may have a point. I think it were best you speak to him yourself. And that Spock should take his tests."

"I'll talk to him," Amanda said grudgingly. "And probably agree to the tests. But that's as far as I will go for now."

"Very well. Then we will discuss it further."

"So long as it is just a discussion. Don't think I'm some sort of pushover, Sarek of Vulcan," she warned, rising to her feet effortlessly in spite of the heavy gravity and staring down at him, "**just** because you got me to marry you. I love you, yes. But don't even **think **that will make one bit of difference when it comes to deciding my baby's future." She threw down the Paddington bear. "I'm going to check on Spock."

Vulcan neat as always, Sarek picked up the Paddington bear, holding it a moment, absently fingering its flowered crown before restoring it beside the picnic basket. Then he left it in sole forlorn possession of the abandoned picnic, and went after his son and wife.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 6**

Sarek caught up to his wife before she had gone very far into the rose maze. His long legs made short work of the distance between them. Amanda glanced at him as he strode beside her but she didn't slacken her pace. As he looked at her, he saw she was dabbing at her eyes.

"Amanda—"

"Don't," she said, putting up her hands, as if she were blocking something before her, holding some invisible force back. "You're doing it again. Please just ….stop. Now."

"You are the one who is walking – nearly running," Sarek said, perplexed.

"I'm going to find Spock. And you **know** that is not what I mean."

"I-Chiya is with him," Sarek reasoned. "He can come to no harm with him. And you are running **from** me. Not to him." He caught her arm, turning her to him. "Amanda, I don't wish to see you cry."

"Just **stop**, Stop pushing me." She said, pulling back. "Can't you just please?" She looked up at him. "You can't, can you? I mean you really, really can't. I used to think this attitude was common to **all** Vulcans. Or that it was some cultural ethnocentric thing. But it isn't. Not entirely. It's you. There's something in you, Sarek, something different. Something **wrong**. At least in the here and now, for this century it is."

"Wrong?" He let go of her arm. Stepped back himself. "What do you mean?"

"You push too hard, Sarek. About **everything**," She faced off at him. "Since the day I met you. You try to control it, but you can't. I don't think you ever could. Once you get an idea in your head, nothing moves you, sways you. Nothing deters you. Nothing ever **stops** you. You are determined to make that vision yours."

"I have always been … determined," Sarek said, standing stock still as if wounded by this assessment.

"You're like a juggernaut. Maybe that trait is necessary for the head of a Pre-Reform warrior clan trying to decimate the enemy. Maybe it's equally useful for Surak trying to single-handedly drag an entire world from violence to peace. Or maybe it isn't an anachronism and it is equally useful when **you** are swaying half the Federation to Vulcan's view. But **I** can't take it when you focus all that laser-like attention here at home. It's too much. It was bad enough when you got that way with me, before we married. I can't have you do that to Spock."

"I have never done anything but try to please you," Sarek said, offended. "As best I could."

"And you have. You do. And I did fall in love with you, though given who you are I'm not sure I ever had a chance to do anything else. And we've been happy. But even there you can sometimes be **too** **much**. You're so relentless. Try a little **less** than your best, and let everyone around you breathe for a change. Even this," she waved her hand at the gardens around them. "I talked about wanting a few roses. You gave me a dozen Terra-formed acres. It's so far past excessive; it's **ridiculous**."

Sarek looked around at the rose maze, all injured Vulcan innocence. "I believe the gardens are aesthetically pleasing."

"Do you not see what I mean? You're not listening to me! You have tunnel vision. You see what **you** want to see and you go after that until you get it. It's one thing to do that with the Council, or the Federation or even **me**. But I can't have you do that with my son. We don't see the same things, Sarek. And now I think we don't see Spock the same way, the way we both used to. I'm not even sure we want the same things for him anymore. We did before. I thought so, anyway. But something has changed. And I won't let you…roll over him the way you did me."

Sarek's eyes narrowed. "He is also **my** son."

"All right. He's **our** son. I'll concede that much, and be willing to **share** joint goals for him. But can **you** do that, Sarek? Can you?"

There was a noise at the end of the rose maze, and around a turning came I-Chiya, padding gravely, Spock riding on his back.

"I-Chiya is hungry," Spock announced. "He is very, **very** hungry. He is ready for his picnic."

Amanda dashed a tear away and forced a smile. "Yes, of course."

High up on i-Chiya's back, Spock was looking almost directly into his mother's face as he came up to them. He frowned and said. "Did you stub your toe?"

"No, sweetheart."

"Did you cut your finger? Did a rose scratch you?" Spock asked, apparently prepared to go methodically down a list of previous reasons why he or his mother had shed tears.

"No, and no," she said. "I'm fine."

"You were crying." Spock noted, reaching out to touch a missed tear. "Even though you are smiling now. I can see."

"Spock, such questioning is not appropriate," Sarek said. "Nor are such observations."

"Just give me a big hug and a kiss and I will never cry any more," Amanda said, holding out her arms in turn to her son.

Spock was amenable to this, but Sarek took Spock from I-Chiya's back before they could complete the embrace and set him on the ground. "Amanda, that is not appropriate."

"Sarek, what about 'Just stop it now' did you not understand," Amanda said through clenched teeth. "This is not the time, nor the place."

Before she even finished, Spock ran between them. He flung himself at her, leaping into her arms, twining his own tightly around her neck and glaring at Sarek. "Mine!" he told his illustrious father over her shoulder in a fine two-year-old fury. "Mine, mine, mine!"

Sarek drew a breath, and realized belatedly that what he knew, what he expected, he had never communicated to Amanda, somehow thinking she understood it as a matter of course. It was time to start deflecting Spock from physical contact into proper Vulcan behavior. He had begun doing it as Spock became more verbal. Amanda had not. But Amanda was perhaps correct. This was not the time or place for this discussion.

"I guess in that respect, he's like his father," Amanda said ironically.

In the middle of this, a figure appeared at the end of the rose maze, one of Sarek's many aides. "There is an urgent communication from Sandor," he told Sarek, referring to Sarek's chief aide in Council, who ran all the administrative tasks necessary for the Council Head. "He requests an interview with you immediately, if possible. He indicates there are extremely urgent matters at Council Keep and requests the interview be held there."

"Go on, Sarek," Amanda said, still holding her son tight. "Please. We'll sort this out later."

With a last glance at his son and wife, Sarek followed his aide.

xxx

While Sarek was dealing with the issue of Spock's potential schooling and the personal problems that resulted, T'Pau had sent her first salvo over the Council in response to her threat to Sarek. She had proposed an amendment to Surak's Constructs, the cornerstones of Vulcan society, in the area of the ancient rites of succession. In effect: that only a son of Surak and a full son of Vulcan could be sealed to Council as an heir.

It had hit that staid, disciplined Council with the effect of a hydrogen bomb.

So sure was she of her success that she did not even consult her own traditional coalition partners with whom such an amendment would normally be proposed.

Any amendment to Surak's Constructs required a consensus of one third of the Council before it could be brought up for debate. However, the Matriarch of all the Vulcan Clans and the Head of Council, T'Pau and Sarek respectively, because their positions lent them a unique perspective on the needs and threats to Vulcan culture, could alone propose an amendment without first obtaining such a coalition.

That T'Pau had acted without bothering to seek one in itself created its own form of shock wave in that tradition-bound Vulcan society. But it was nothing compared to why she had done so.

The news that there was dissent in the House of Surak was deeply concerning to those on the Council. These traditional leaders were known for their strong passions and their historically proven ability to drag the rest of Vulcan society into first horrific wars, then into peace and logic and then into the turbulent storms of the Federation. Some Vulcans had opposed T'Pau's move to first involve Vulcan in the Federation and to send Sarek to negotiate there. But at least **then** the House of Surak had stood united.

Sarek's marriage, opposed by T'Pau had been the first source of recent concern. Likewise T'Pau's refusal to accord Amanda clan status. But due to Sarek's puzzling disinclination to challenge her on this, rare in one of so decided a mind, it had been considered a private discord. Because of Vulcan's respect for privacy the situation went largely undiscussed by Vulcans. Sarek could have raised this issue within the clan, but for reasons of his own he had not chosen to do so. And outside of the clan, in the larger area of Council, Amanda's status had not been an issue because without first having clan sanction, she had no status in Council.

But T'Pau's proposed amendment raised Spock's legitimacy as an heir up to a High Council level. Further, because her salvo involved an amendment to Surak's Contracts, the principle guide to Vulcan society, and the peace that it had secured Vulcan for 5000 years, such an amendment required every single Council member to take a public position and vote on it. To ask Vulcans to change Surak's Constructs was no light matter.

To ask them to side in a discord between the two most prominent members of the House of Surak, in a discord of inheritance and family succession, one that in Vulcan's not so distant past might have brought the clans to a war footing, was distasteful, even deeply distressing to the High Council.

T'Pau's spokespersons indicated she at present anticipated no comment prior to the amendment coming up to vote. Vulcans are said not to gamble, but she appeared confident enough either in her position, or in Sarek's folding before it, that she was deigning not even to debate.

Since T'Pau had declined to comment, delegations thus converged on Sarek's office. Seeking his position on the matter as head of Council, seeking to know if he would oppose her or, even because he had not challenged T'Pau on her refusal to accept Amanda, if he would also yield and withdraw his intent to present Spock as heir.

If the latter were true, then this might cause T'Pau to withdraw her amendment to the Constructs, and save the Council an encompassing and distasteful vote. If not, it meant the Matriarch and the Council Head were opposed. And that to preserve the pure Vulcan lines of succession as T'Pau wished, they might have to consider amending the very IDIC principles of Surak that had garnered 5000 years of peace between warring clans, that had spearheaded T'Pau's very notion of propelling Vulcan into Federation politics, and that would oppose the succession of the son of their own Council Head, the direct descendant of Surak. Which T'Pau, adopted into the House of Surak via marriage, was not.

To tradition bound Vulcans, who believed Surak's precepts were the dike that kept the floodwaters of emotion from setting all of their people awash in the violence that followed it, such an amendment had roots that bordered on heresy. On the other hand, even though T'Pau was not of the direct line of Surak as Sarek was, she was Matriarch, and that carried a heavy weight in Council. And the principles of Surak that had helped bring the warring clans together under IDIC could possibly be considered stretched when applied to non-Vulcans.

But to vote against IDIC was essentially T'Pau refuting the very logic she had used to drag a somewhat reluctant Vulcan into the Federation. Was T'Pau next to propose Vulcan withdraw from the Federation? Was she concluding her experiment a failed one?

Logical chains of argument flew, position papers analyzing the end results of such arguments were drawn up on all sides, and the Council fomented itself into a chartreuse lather over the consequences.

And Sarek's office and aides were swamped with requests for clarification, for meetings, for an analysis of Sarek's position. Caught off guard, as it were, Sarek's aides had neither instructions nor insight to give, and begged Sarek's attendance in his office to brief them.

Sarek arrived, still troubled by his near quarrel with Amanda and Spock's disturbing display. He appeared almost impatient with the necessity for doing so. He read T'Pau's amendment, his manner singularly unimpressed. Even his aides, well acquainted with Sarek being undaunted under almost any circumstances, were taken aback by this.

"What of it?" Sarek asked, having completed his review of the imposing Council document. "I expected something of the sort."

"The Council is sundered into many factions," Sandor explained carefully. "On the issue of succession, traditionalists are opposed to **any** change to the ancient ascendancy lines. Liberals are opposed because of the reason for her change. Ultra conservatives, those who believe Vulcan should leave the Federation, agree with this bill in principle. But as you know, T'Pau **supported** Vulcan's entry into the Federation. In sending you to be Ambassador, which ultra conservatives opposed, she lost that coalition. They agree with the bill, in principle, but not with T'Pau's introduction of it, since she has sullied her own logical arguments by her prior position.

"This proposal implies greater consequences," Sandor continued, since Sarek had not replied to his calculated pause. "Ultra conservatives seek to know whether T'Pau will follow this with its corollary, that Vulcan withdraw from the Federation. And if that means that Federation institutions: banking, trading, and governmental, will then be asked to leave Vulcan. The extreme members of that faction seek to know whether the ancient Vulcan alliance will also be challenged. This raises great concern among Council, as to what any change to the Vulcan alliance means to the prospect of Romulan defenses. And yet ultra conservatives are also opposed to any change in Surak's Constructs. Traditionalists believe that Vulcan disciplines prevail against even against Federation influences, and that IDIC requires Vulcan's place in the Federation. All of Council is deeply concerned about the economic impact to Vulcan of Federation withdrawal. A significant portion of the economy is presently based on Federation exports. T'Pau has not yet replied to questions regarding whether her position on the Federation remains unchanged. As you know, she has recently been solicited to sit on the Federation High Council. Many believe her present proposed amendment requires she refuse that position, and withdraw Vulcan from the Federation. There are those who question whether T'Pau is seeking to remove the principle of IDIC from Surak's constructs and how this will impact Vulcan society. These logical corollaries are all obvious. They cannot be denied. To propose this amendment, and refuse to accept the resulting implications and consequences it leads to, is illogical."

Sarek glanced at Sandor at this, and the Vulcan hastily added, "Or so it could be said to be."

"T'Pau must disclose her own reasoning," Sarek said.

"She has refused to debate."

"Indeed? Interesting," Sarek said. Though his tone implied a definite lack of interest.

"But she is **Matriarch**," Sandor noted. "The tendency is to accept that her logic is flawless, but the council simply lacks facts to understand her reasoning. The Council is therefore deeply concerned at being asked to make such a vote." Sandor paused again. "Of course, all of this could be moot if you plan to withdraw your intention to present Spock to Council. The amendment could then be withdrawn. Or simply tabled for further study, and buried in committee, for millennia, if need be."

"I will not withdraw," Sarek said. "Spock will be presented to Council at the next formal opening, as is my right. The only way I will not present him is if I am not present to do so."

Sandor hesitated. "If you are called away on Federation business."

Sarek met his eyes. "That is not the circumstance I foresee."

Sandor looked away a moment. "Council in general is opposed to the more immediate outcomes of T'Pau's proposal. They are deeply concerned about what could result."

"They fear Spock will not be confirmed?" Sarek said, deliberately obtuse.

Sarek's longtime aide drew a careful breath at a breach of the personal that even long term acquaintance could not entirely excuse, "Forgive me, Sarek, for speaking candidly about private matters."

"Granted," Sarek said, after a momentary pause.

"T'Pau is old," Sandor said. "She has no other son. The unbroken line of Surak thus rests solely in you."

"Not solely," Sarek said. "There is Spock."

Sandor did not respond to that, careful not to express his personal views either way. "There are societal, political and economic consequences to T'Pau's proposal far beyond the issue of Spock's confirmation itself. Unless T'Pau addresses the logical corollaries and the inconsistencies in her position, it is possible, Matriarch or not, that she may not prevail. Some in Council who are presently ambivalent about the issue of Spock, even those who are opposed, might be willing to allow Spock to be confirmed, for now, and …wait and see how he develops. Even those who believe Spock's existence sullies the clan of Surak – in some respects especially those - and would not want him confirmed, **still** do not wish to risk your … continuation as Head of Council. They believe…forgive me Sarek…that the issue with Spock is a temporary one."

"Temporary?" Sarek asked, raising a brow in surprise. "How so?"

"The child is the first of his kind. No one knows his long term viability or future development. Humans are so short lived. There is the sense that you will, by the simple fact that humans live so short a time, eventually take another wife, a Vulcan wife, one who will bear a suitable heir. But …there is a concern that if Council opposes you, it may jeopardize even that opportunity. All know you can be **determined** in a course of action past all obstacles. All know that you **banished** all clan retainers from your service that sided with T'Pau upon your marriage and who refused to accept Amanda as your wife. On the other hand, you did **not** fight T'Pau when she refused to act to seal your wife to the clan. They are uncertain how you will respond now. There are those who believe you will withdraw your intention to present Spock, and spare all this vote. There are others, who believe you have your own reasons for not doing so in your wife's case that may not be in play in this instance. They know the sons of the clan of Surak are renowned for stubborn determination. They are concerned that based on your previous actions, if Council rejects your son, you will likewise reject Council. Even Vulcan."

He waited, delicately, for Sarek to refute this.

Sarek turned away, to look outward at the Vulcan landscape, the towers and turrets of Council Keep. "Obviously if Council rejects tradition and my legal heir, my actions would require the gravest of consideration. I have so informed T'Pau of this."

Sandor closed his eyes briefly. As if in grief. What he was seeing was that they stood on the precipice of a serious, serious sundering of the ruling clan of Vulcan, the first in thousands of years.

For a long moment Sandor stood, waiting, even hoping if that were possible for a Vulcan, for Sarek to retract his statement. Yet he knew it was impossible. Sarek seldom changed his mind, once determined. And it was unVulcan of Sandor to beg. His culture left him few options.

He wanted to ask if this child, these humans were **worth** all of this. But that too, was too unVulcan to ask.

Sarek continued to look out across the Council complex, deep in thought.

"Do you have any further instructions for me?" Sandor asked finally.

"No," Sarek said.

"There are those at Council who wish to meet with you on this matter. In their minds, the matter is quite urgent."

"I have other concerns. It will have to be at a later time."

Sandor nodded at this clear dismissal and took his leave thinking the very fact that Sarek refused to meet on this now, when all of Council was in an uproar, implied his decisions were already made.

A dozen or more urgent communications waited Sandor in his own office, all seeking refutation from Sarek of the very outcome Sandor had delicately just questioned Sarek about. And which Sarek had refused to refute.

Sandor stared at them, unseeing. Unwilling to communicate what he had just been told.

Vulcans did not bluff. Nor did Vulcans threaten.

Still, was it remotely conceivable that the heir to Surak would resign from Council, from the hereditary position to which he had been bred and born, raised and trained, of which a world and a culture from many worlds looked to him to fulfill, all for a half human child of a human woman?

Sarek had essentially made it clear to Sandor that he considered himself and T'Pau locked in combat. And if he lost this Council vote and Spock were not accepted, he planned to do just that.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 7**

Council Keep sat in the center of the city of Shikhar, over an underground oasis fed by mountain springs from the Llangons. The ancient Fortress in which Sarek lived had been originally built to guard the approach through the mountain passes to Shikhar and its deep underground springs. T'Pau's palace was across the desert from the city of Shikhar in the other direction. Considered to be in a more favorable location than the mountainous chilly Fortress, Sarek's clan ancestors had built the Palace several thousand years after the Fortress' construction. Though still pre-Reform, the Palace had been built when Surak's clan had been transfiguring itself from major victors in war to major leaders in Vulcan civilization.

After his trying meeting at Council, Sarek had meant to return to the Fortress. But in spite of all Vulcan controls, his piloting of the flyer took him in the exact opposite direction that he had intended, across to T'Pau's Palace.

He did not announce himself. He was not expected. In spite of five thousand years of peace, the Matriarch of All Vulcan was still protected by the ancient institution of the Palace Guard. The Guard was not entirely anachronistic. As Matriarch, T'Pau handled all cases of Challenge among clans, those emotionally charged encounters. Her Guard protected her as she officiated during the violence those encounters entailed, as well as ensured her security from any anti-Vulcan or anti-Federation forces the rest of the time. Many of these hulking professional warriors also hired themselves out as Professional Challengers, so they served at Challenge on both sides of the arena. They were more than capable of all their duties.

But in spite of the unannounced nature of his visit, the outer guard let Sarek pass. They were probably unaware of the conflict looming between T'Pau and Sarek in Council. And he was, after all, a son of her house.

When he reached T'Pau's inner court, T'Pau's attendants did show visible Vulcan surprise, both at his unorthodox unannounced visit and that he would do so when he and T'Pau were locked in opposition.

"Matriarch?" the guardsman tasked with her personal safety, questioned.

"Leave us," T'Pau said. Being T'Pau, she did not say it twice.

Sarek waited until the last attendant had filed out. Her personal guard lingered still, conscious of his sworn duty, particularly to a Vulcan male in opposition to his leader, one who had already broken tradition in so significant a way. Until T'Pau gave the guard a special glance and repeated, "Leave us."

"I had not planned to come here," Sarek said.

"That is obvious. My staff is amazed. Still, it is as well you came. You cannot withdraw your intention to present that child as heir too soon."

"That **child** is my **son**," Sarek said. "My heir and yours. And that is not my reason for coming."

"Indeed." T'Pau rose, her eyes glittering. "What reason have you then?"

"I came to see, perhaps for the last time before that conflict, the woman who by denying my marriage and my family seeks to destroy me." Sarek raised a brow. "The fact that you are my maternal parent adds to the irony of the situation. It is not unheard of in our clan's ancient history, though usually there is a rival son to supplant, as there is not here."

"I am attempting to **save** you," T'Pau said. "While there is still a chance to do so. Someone must, and I am the only one who can. Before you committed yourself to that…human, did you consider the probable results logically? Did you review their divorce rate – even among their own kind? "

"Even Vulcans divorce," Sarek dismissed.

"Not at those levels."

"Such separations among humans do not imply death," Sarek insisted. "Perhaps if they did, the human statistics would be different. Regardless of them, I trust my wife. "

"It is a foolhardy, to put such trust in a human. And misplaced to trust a human rather than those of one's blood. Those who do not wish to see your blood shed on the Challenge sands. Do you think you need to speak of what the challenge implies? I am **Matriarch**. That role requires me to officiate at every Challenge among the clans. I see the deaths that such Challenges entail. I will not risk yours to a human's quixotic nature."

"T'Pau," Sarek said carefully. "Is it not possible that your duties in that regard have adversely influenced you into expecting the worst?"

"I know that humans have statistically proven that they no concept of fealty as we do."

"Amanda is not part of your statistics. She has chosen me as a bondmate. She has seen me through the worst of Vulcan _Times,_ and born me an heir at great risk to her life. Her **fealty** to **me** is a fact which you have refused to acknowledge. You respond to her by denying her the very clan rights her actions entitle her to. You have jeopardized my marriage, my life and my son's life by your actions. If your proposal is your concept of **your** fealty toward family, T'Pau, then **I** will choose Amanda's."

"You will choose that human over your clan?"

"She is my family, and thus my clan. If the clan of my birth does not accept her, then that requires me to forge a new clan. T'Pau, I will do what is necessary to protect my family, regardless of where that leads."

"You imply leading you into the Federation? Away from Vulcan?"

"Draw the conclusions that by your actions you have forced me to consider."

"I will not allow it. Withdraw your intent to present that bastard child to Council."

Sarek's mouth set, but he controlled himself, with difficulty. "Withdraw your proposal, T'Pau. Vow that you will accept my right to present Spock as my son in Council. Accept Amanda into the clan. End this pointless conflict."

"I can not," T'Pau said.

"I will not withdraw."

"You force the Council to this vote?"

"**You **have brought this action, T'Pau. We both must accept the consequences of its result."

"You will lose. Duty will require you to take a Vulcan wife."

"No," Sarek denied. "If the Council votes against me, you will lose a son to other than a Challenge."

"You would not," T'Pau said. "Have you forgotten your **heritage** in this human's arms? You are **Vulcan**!"

"I **am **Vulcan," Sarek said, with deadly intent. "Far more Vulcan than you realize. You who officiate at Challenge so often should understand this. Never seek to separate a Vulcan male from his bondmate. Or his family. Do you think I know nothing of the ancient passions? I will not **stand **for it. "

The guard, as if by magic, appeared, looking from Sarek to T'Pau. Neither who paid them any notice.

"They are nothing," T'Pau urged. "They are **human**. Give them up."

"They are mine. We are bonded. They are me, and I am them. If Vulcan rejects my son and heir, I will not sully Surak's dream by resorting to war. But I will forge a new clan in a true Vulcan spirit. And leave you to lapse into your pre-Reform prejudices. Do not challenge me, T'Pau. You will lose. One way or another."

For the first time in a long lifetime, the Matriarch of all Vulcan contemplated the fact that even in winning, she could fail.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 8**

Sarek came back to himself from his deadly stance, shaking himself free of it, walking past the Guard as if they did not exist, T'Pau's guards falling back before him.

After that disturbing incident, Sarek felt the need to take a long walk on the Forge, remastering the control that the conflict had unraveled, and meditating deeply on his choices. He came to the same conclusions. By the time he finally returned to his home, and his equilibrium was restored, sunset was long past.

He put his flyer in the hanger and walked through the sweep gates, through the garden court, thinking for the first time since he had left, the cross words that he and Amanda had exchanged. It seemed he had created conflict in every facet of his life. He geared himself up to perhaps another trial, another test of his control, before this day could end.

The Fortress was largely dark except for a light on in the lower level kitchen. He went through the garden court door passage into that area. There he found Amanda. She was working at the kitchen table again. It seemed an odd place in Sarek's mind to work, but it was one she seemingly favored over her office.

Spock was nowhere around; presumably already asleep. Next to Amanda's netbook was a Terran style baby monitor that she insisted on using, even though Sarek had told her the parental bond would more than suffice. It was singularly ineffectual in its present use. I-Chiya must have considered himself still on duty in Sarek's absence. Sarek could discern nothing over the monitor's audio except for I-Chiya's muffled snores, the sehlat presumably lying next to the baby's bed.

As he entered, Amanda looked up from her work. As always when Sarek had left T'Pau, the contrast between his Vulcan roots and his wife's humanity struck him anew. First the outward aspects, blue eyes shining in the dimness with an unVulcan gleam, her blond hair tumbling in a tawny, lematya-like wave down her shoulders. She was wearing the ridiculous Vulcan princess t-shirt again, and the sparkles in the crown glittered in the dimness. Her gestures, too, were so undeniably human. He had not known what to expect of her mood, and had been too weary even to lower his shields enough to perceive something of it through the bond.

When Sarek came through the garden court door, Amanda rose to her feet, ran and flung her arms around him, hugging him tight. He stood stock still for a moment. After his stressful day, he just let her emotional resonance envelop him along with her touch until she finally drew back.

"You're so late," she said, looking up at him. "I called Council but your aides didn't know where you were. That's not like you. I was **worried**."

Sarek reached down and lightly smoothed her cheek. "I regret distressing you. I went to the Forge to meditate."

"The Forge? At night?" She frowned. "You didn't even have I-Chiya."

"I was perfectly safe."

"With all those lematya out there ready to eat you?"

"At the moment," Sarek said dryly, "the forces attempting my demise in the desert pale to what are attempting them elsewhere." He took her hand and absently fashioned her fingers into the two fingered embrace of Vulcan bondmates, touching his to hers. She looked at him and returned the Vulcan embrace.

"I take it you don't mean that **literally**." She took his hand still in hers, and improvised on the gesture, kissing his fingertips, one by one. "Just remember you have a wife and a baby who need you." She looked up from his fingers. "You don't expect me to bring up that baby all alone do you?"

"No," Sarek said, raising a brow, "that I certainly do not."

"Did you have a bad day at work?" Amanda asked, innocently clueless. She slid her arm around him, walking to the table.

He looked down at her, and knew he could not tell her. Not now. In fact, he would rather not tell her ever. Or at least, not until or unless it became necessary. "Not quite."

"Something you can share?" she asked. "Or is it some high level Federation classified thing?

"Not exactly," Sarek said, "But nothing I would trouble you with." His rigid shoulders dropped a fraction with the balm of her concern, and he let out a careful, calming breath and then relaxed and banished the events of the day. "Spock is asleep?" he asked, seeking to distract her before she would question him further. From the baby monitor, the sehlat snoring abruptly ceased. Sarek could hear the retreating of sehlat pads from Spock's room and then finally, with the sehlat gone from the room, the faint whiffing breath of his own son.

The thought of her son, as always, distracted Amanda at least briefly. "Not until after he insisted on three repetitions of _**Goodnight, Moon**_. Then he finally asked me what a **moon** was."

"What did you tell him?" Sarek asked, diverted by the prospect of his wife, who showed not the slightest interest in astrophysics, and who could not discern Sol in the Vulcan sky without Sarek pointing it out to her, explaining astronomy to his son.

"He conked out before I could answer him. Just as well. You're the astrophysicist; I'll let you explain it. Next time, I'm going for _**Pat the Bunny**_."

Sarek raised a thoughtful brow in consideration of his past. "I **was** an astrophysicist. Briefly. Before my father died, I held a position at the Vulcan Science Academy. Perhaps I shall one day return to the academic life again."

Amanda looked up at him. "The two of us teaching at the same institution? I would like that. And I know you would be a good one. Sarek," she leaned against him, pressing close. "I'm sorry for what I said this afternoon. I shouldn't have been so critical about something that you can't help. And your work in the Federation **is** flawless. You are a **brilliant** Ambassador. Half the Federation waits to see how you'll vote on any issue, and then follows you like you're the Pied Piper." She frowned, frustrated. "Oh, you won't understand what I mean by that. I hate that."

He looked down at her, with a trace of amusement. "No matter. Only half?"

She looked up at him at that, smiling in turn. "You've got your sense of humor back. The other half waits to see how you'll vote and then tries to figure out how to get around you. And fails. And if you push too hard sometimes with them, it is only because you think it is necessary."

"And with you?" Sarek asked.

She bit back a smile, looking away a moment. "Well, **there** you have me, Sarek. You are relentless. But I know you do it with the best intentions. And that flaw, if it is one, is minor compared to your other sterling qualities. So if – when- I get frustrated, don't hold it too much against me. I can't help that any more than you can help **your** nature." She looked up at him. "Sarek, I wanted to tell you. I talked to Subor this afternoon."

"I am pleased that you did so."

She nodded. "He explained some of his concerns regarding Spock." She looked at him, frowning slightly. "I didn't understand that Vulcans have a neurological window for acquiring some skills, like humans do for acquiring speech. You have to do it within a certain period or forever forfeit it. You **could** have told me. It makes a big difference."

Sarek raised a brow. "I did not think it was necessary. And I know so little of such things myself. I am not an educator."

She sighed and traced the embroidery on his clan shield tunic with a finger. "I did agree to bring Spock in for testing tomorrow."

That did startle Sarek. "Tomorrow? That is expeditious."

She looked up again at him, puzzled. "I thought you wanted this? And Subor also seems to think it is important.

"I am sure it is. I am pleased you have arranged it."

Amanda stepped back. "Are you hungry? You never did have lunch with us. Did you have dinner?"

"I have not eaten."

Amanda shook her head and stepped to the stasis unit. "You don't eat, all day. You spend hours as lematya bait on the desert. **Something** is going on, Sarek."

"Nothing I cannot address." But as Sarek settled at the table, he realized, abruptly, how tired he was. He watched her thoughtfully. "You seem less distressed about the prospect of Spock's schooling now."

She set her mouth, putting a meal together for him. "We're just talking about **testing** for now. Not school. We'll review what the test results show after we get them back. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, but no doubt there will be many options. We'll talk about it then, and make decisions when we know what the deal is."

"That is logical."

"I have my moments," Amanda said, turning to him with a faint smile. "Though sometimes I emote first and think afterwards." She looked across at him. "Sarek, I do apologize for this afternoon. I'm not saying I feel any differently about Spock starting school early. But I over-reacted." She looked down, as if embarrassed. "He's my first child, Sarek. I didn't know, I didn't have **any **idea, how motherhood would make me feel."

"You are an excellent, Mother," Sarek said, without reservation.

"How would you know?" she asked, a smile twisting her lips.

"I have the example of my own," Sarek replied, quietly serious, thinking of T'Pau's actions, of which Amanda was so unaware. But he was doubly unwilling to distress her unduly with the fact of them, unless and until it became necessary.

"Let's not talk about T'Pau now," Amanda said, seeing her husband looking lost in painful thought at the mention of his implacable mother. "But as to motherhood, I do understand how those lematya lionesses feel about their cubs. The prospect of giving Spock up, even for school, is very hard. In that respect I can **sympathize** with your mother. She must worry about you."

"She chooses a strange way of expressing it," Sarek said darkly.

"Well, so did I this afternoon. But you caught me unprepared, emotionally, and I over-reacted. Badly, I'm afraid. I 'm sorry I took it out on you. I didn't mean to be …shrewish. I never want to be that with you. It certainly wasn't your fault that Spock has surprised all of us by his abilities." She brought the plate over to the table, and sat down next to him. "Forgive me?"

Sarek covered her hand with his. "Amanda on your worst days, you could not be shrewish."

A smile played around the corners of her mouth. "Are you saying I **have** worse days?"

Sarek raised a brow, deliberately seeking to tease her. "There **are** certain times in your…cycle," he said delicately, "…when, you yourself have claimed—"

"You are **such** a male chauvinist pig!" Amanda said, with a laugh, and would have clouted him, except he caught her hand before any blow could land. "Anyway, if we are comparing the mood changing effects of certain **cycles**, may I say that **yours** has **mine** beat."

"I would not argue with that," Sarek agreed.

"I don't see how you could," she said. After a moment, she added, "I do love you, you know."

"That I know well," he replied with equanimity.

"You're supposed to say, _I love you too_," Amanda said, but without heat, knowing that he would not. "Oh, eat your dinner. I know you are starving. I'll settle for having you **show** me, later on."

Reflecting they both had a big day tomorrow, Sarek began his meal. Amanda put away the items she had been working on before he had arrived, flipped the netbook shut, and waited, silent and pensive, lost in thought.

When he finished his meal and rose to clear his dishes, she stirred.

"Sarek? What we talked about the other night? I really would like another baby."

He looked at her from across the dish recycler. "We were told that would be dangerous, Amanda."

"They told us that the **first** time, before we even had Spock." Amanda argued. "That worked out all right."

"According to the physicians, a second child would be **far** more dangerous," Sarek said doggedly.

"Oh, what do doctors know," Amanda dismissed them impatiently. "Professional crepe-hangers, all of them. I was **fine** through Spock's pregnancy."

"You were not. And you were very ill after his birth."

"Only for a short while. Then I bounced right back." Amanda leaned forward in her eagerness. "Sarek, I **know** I can do it again. And I want to." She put her hand in the pocket of her shorts, and withdrew a vial, the drugs that would suppress her natural immune system, and prevent it from rejecting the Vulcan elements in Sarek's sperm, and put it on the table.

Sarek stared at it, and the implications of it, and his eyes widened.

She looked up at him. "I checked. I'm ovulating now. In fact, today is the best day of my cycle. With these, and your assistance," she looked at him hopefully. "We could have another baby by the end of the year. When Spock **does** have to go to school."

"Amanda. We have not discussed this. Not seriously-"

"What is there to discuss? I want a baby. I know you want more children too."

Sarek shook his head, as if to clear it. "What about your work? You had planned to return to the Academy when Spock went to school-"

"I made that decision before I was a mother, when my knowledge of it and the prospect of returning to work were theoretical. And now, I don't care. I can still work for a while when I am pregnant. And my being pregnant is one excuse the Academy could hardly fail to accept." She held out a hand to him. "Sarek, humans **aren't** like Vulcans. I **don't** have hundreds of years to bear you children. Only a few. I **want** another baby. I want your baby. And I want it now. This is the best time, when Spock could use a sibling. When I am still young and at the peak of my fertility. It's better to raise children together, not far strung apart. Don't you agree with me? Don't you want another child?"

"Yes," Sarek said rashly. "If there were no other obstacles, I would agree."

Amanda's eyes widened. "What obstacles? I want this. You want this. Who else is involved? And why should we wait another day. Another moment?"

"Because it's dangerous," he said, staring at the pills. "I don't want to risk you. Not for myself. Nor for Spock."

"Oh, Sarek. I can do **anything**," Amanda said, rising and coming to him. "Together, **we** can do anything."

"We must discuss it," Sarek insisted. He drew her to him, crossed to the table, sitting down as if these actions would lead some logic to the situation.

"What is there to discuss?" Amanda said, shaking her head, her hair spilling in unruly waves over her shoulders. "We have gotten this far, haven't we? And look what we have managed. All those naysayers: my friends, even your mother, everyone who said our marriage was doomed. Yet we have a wonderful life, a beautiful home, a son I know we both adore." She opened the vial, counted out the dose, reached for Sarek's glass of water, still on the table.

"Amanda," Sarek said. He reached out a hand, but the hand that could block one of her mock blows faster than her eye could follow, did not reach out quickly enough now. She swallowed the pills and looked at him, eyes shining.

"Twenty minutes, and my immune system won't have a single defense against you." She laughed lightly. "Personally I haven't had one since I met you." She leaned up to kiss him. "Please, Sarek. Please."

For her to plead for something he wanted badly himself tested his resolve against this rash proposal. "This is not the way to make these decisions," Sarek said. But he could not help kissing her back, her mood infecting him.

And was momentarily lost. After a long torturous day, the stresses of Council, of dealing with T'Pau, the comfort and the unconditional acceptance she offered, was too blatant a siren for him to ignore, or reject. In one second, between the time he bent his head to return her kiss, and their lips meeting, his resistance crumbled.

"When the odds of a whole universe of possibilities oppose the outcome, this is the only way to make these decisions," Amanda murmurred against his lips. "I have every confidence, that with you on my side, we will always win." She pulled off her princess t-shirt and kissed him again, pressing against him. "That is your clan motto, isn't it? You're always right. We always win."

"Yes," Sarek breathed. "And we shall." He picked her up in his arms.

"This is the kind of relentless clan leader action I like to see," Amanda teased, her arms twined around his neck as he carried her upstairs.

I-Chiya passed them on the stairs but neither Sarek nor Amanda acknowledged him, caught up in each other. He growled softly as they passed, thinking all this was too much. Then the empathic creature paused, opened his fluted jowls, taking in the different emotional and pheromonic resonances wafting on the air and in the telepathic band. He growled softly again, and continued down the stairs and outside, declining to demand his own rightful attentions and dinner, giving them privacy. And feeling well satisfied. Spock **was** an enchanting cub. But I-Chiya had seen generations of young Vulcans come and grow. He knew Spock would soon be in school. It was time for a new cub.

He was glad Sarek was finally attending to the serious business of procuring another.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 9**

Not even Vulcans are immune to emotional considerations. Humans certainly were not. Both Sarek and Amanda were heartsick for different reasons. Sarek deeply regretted the upcoming confrontation in Council, and what might follow, one that so far he could see no way to avoid. Amanda was torn over the potential loss of her child to that aged thief, Time, that sought to steal him away from her even at so young an age.

Both of them in choosing each other had suffered rejection. So it was natural they sought solace in each other's affection. The prospect of another child was a tonic for them both. Knowing they were creating one added spice to their lovemaking.

They spent a delirious night, neither of them willing to leave the other for dreams that could not be half as satisfying as the reality of the other's arms. When the Eridani rose, and the baby monitor indicated Spock was awake, neither one of them had slept.

"I will see to Spock," Sarek said. "You should rest."

"We haven't done this since pre-baby," Amanda said, propping herself up on one elbow. "It's reassuring to know I haven't gotten too old, or too mature, to spend all night making love. I think I have rediscovered my husband."

Sarek raised a brow. "Indeed. I never lost you, my wife."

"Fess up," Amanda teased. "Are you saying you never got a little jealous, as I was juggling babies and breastfeeding and bottles, and dealing with I-Chiya underfoot every minute trying to second-guess my baby management, that you didn't get just a **tad** jealous of being second place for a while? Human men do."

"I am not human," Sarek said with dignity, in his best _I will not be drawn_ voice.

"And you are very, **very** good at not answering questions you don't like," Amanda said, amused.

"As you say, I have to attend to Spock."

"I think this is what Vulcan warriors would call a strategic retreat," Amanda called after him, before sighing with remembered satisfaction, plumping her pillow and falling asleep.

She intended leaving Spock's care to Sarek for a few hours, but she was rudely awakened by the attack of the pixie toddler. Spock came running and shouting into her room, followed by I-Chiya, woofing in hot pursuit, followed by Sarek, in belated pursuit of both.

"I want to go to Terra. I want to see the Moooooon," Spock said, leaping onto the bed and launching himself at her.

"Wumphf," Amanda said, waking up with a start as Spock landed on top of her. A Vulcan toddler doesn't weigh twice as much as he would on Terra, but he feels like he does.

I-Chiya grabbed Spock. Hooking one fang in the back of his Oshkosh overalls' strap, he tugged, causing Spock to howl. "Let go, let go! I want Mama!"

"Roarfffff," I-Chiya roared in denial, leaning back with a steady, thousand pound pressure, apparently determined to complete his mission, however belatedly, to keep Spock from disturbing Amanda. Totally clueless to the fact that sehlat roars are not conducive to slumber.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Spock howled.

"Roar, **Roar**, **Roooaarrr**," I-Chiya roared.

Sarek paused in his head-on flight into the room, winced at the noise level, and then strode bravely on into the fray.

"**Kroykah!**" Amanda commanded, her own hands over her ears. "Let him **go**, I-Chiya," Amanda said, sitting up.

The sehlat opened his jaws, but the strap was caught around his tusk. Spock howled louder. The sehlat roared louder, this time in frantic distress. I-Chiya tried to disentangle himself, the overall strap shredded against the razor sharp incisor, and Spock went flying backwards as the pressure abruptly released, somersaulting through the air, to be neatly caught by Sarek, as he came up in a rear guard action.

"Nice catch," Amanda said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Sarek raised a brow.

"**Bad, bad**, sehlat," Spock stormed at the abashed I-Chiya. "Bad, **bad**!" He flung himself out of Sarek's arms into his mother's, while I-Chiya tried to melt into a thousand pound puddle of chastened fur on the floor. "He **bited** me with his big I-Chiya teeth." Spock wailed.

"He didn't mean to," Amanda soothed. "He's sorry, aren't you I-Chiya? Look at how sad he is."

At this forgiveness, I-Chiya whined and climbed up into the bed next to Amanda, licking every available face.

"All right, enough, enough!" Amanda said, laughing, choking on sehlat fur and fruitlessly trying to push away the huge animal.

"More, more!" Spock shouted, bouncing in the bed.

"I-Chiya," Sarek said. The sehlat stopped instantly and settled at Sarek's side in perfect heel position.

"And this is letting me sleep in how?" Amanda asked her husband dryly.

Sarek caught Spock out of the air in mid-bounce and set him on his feet before him. "You were disobedient, Spock. You were to wait while I prepared breakfast."

"I-Chiya wanted to see where Mama was," Spock said with guileless charm.

"I-Chiya did **not**," Sarek said.

"**Didn't** you, I –Chiya?" Spock asked, with wide eyed innocence, nose to nose with the sehlat, as if amazed by this contradictory fact. "**I** thought he did," he said to Sarek with such duplicitous candor that I-Chiya wriggled, torn between two loyalties.

"He's **good**," Amanda said, admiring and appalled at Spock's abilities. "I think we are outclassed already, Sarek."

"I am good," Spock agreed, placidly.

"We will discuss veracity at a future time, Spock," Sarek said.

"Everybody out," Amanda said. "I am getting up, showering and dressing. Then I will be down for breakfast, which I expect to see you eating, Spock."

"Nasty breaffist. Wait for you," Spock said.

"What did you make him?"

"I was making him something suitable, traditional, for a day of testing," Sarek said.

"Smelled bad," Spock traitorously confessed. "Even I-Chiya wouldn't eat it."

I-Chiya woofed in assent, and leaning forward, licked Amanda's hand eagerly, urging her up to prepare **his** breaffist. Spock returned to bounce on the bed.

"Never mind. I will make breakfast when I come down." Amanda said.

"Come, Spock," Sarek said, snatching his son in mid bounce.

"Want Mama! Mama!"

The empathic sehlat whined in distress at Spock's cries, and then joined him.

Sarek carried his son out, amid Vulcan and sehlat howls.

xxx

It took Amanda a little longer to prepare for her day than usual, because she was hadn't bothered to dress so formally for quite a while. When she entered the kitchen, both Sarek and Spock straightened.

"How do I look?" Amanda asked, twirling to give her Vulcans a full view.

She was wearing a very pretty formal Vulcan gown, embroidered and lightly jeweled. Her hair was upswept and arranged in Vulcan style.

"Beautiful," Sarek said.

"It looks scratchy," Spock said in unromantic skepticism.

"It is, a little," Amanda admitted.

"Why are you dressed like that," Spock wanted to know. "You look silly. Where are your **shorts**?"

"Vulcans do not wear shorts," Sarek said. "In public."

"I like the **princess** shirt better," Spock said, unknowingly traitorously siding with humanity. "It's sparklier."

"Never mind," Amanda repeated. "Today, after you finish breakfast, we are going on an adventure," she told Spock.

"Back to the Forge?" Spock wanted to know.

"We are going to school. When we get to school, you are going to take some tests," Amanda said.

Remembering Sarek's talk about the _Kahs Wan_, Spock shook his head. "No tests for me," he denied.

"Spock," Sarek began.

"Why not?" Amanda asked.

"The Forge is too big," Spock said. "I'm not going there without I-Chiya. Not me."

"These are not those sorts of tests," Sarek said. "And we are not going to the Forge, but to school."

"No school for me," Spock said adamantly, sticking firmly to what worked.

"Spock," Sarek repeated warningly.

"Sarek, that kind of head-on confrontation may be great on the warrior battlefield, and intimidating across a conference table. But it **doesn't** work with a two year old," Amanda muttered to him in a _sotto voice _aside. "All toddlers reach a point where all they want to say is **no**."

Sarek gave Spock a dark look as if itching to return to toddlerhood long enough to say a few **no**s himself.

"In this place," Amanda continued persuasively to Spock. "They have all sorts of new puzzles **just **for you."

"Puzzles?" Spock said, intrigued in spite of himself.

"New ones. Far more faaaascinating than the ones you have done before. Logic puzzles, math puzzles. The best puzzles you have ever seen. Better than _Alice in Wonderland_ puzzles," she added, invoking the name of the latest book she had been reading to her son. She had thought it might be too advanced for him, but he was lapping it up.

Spock considered this, seduced by his favorite tempting word, but then rejecting it. "You and I will stay **here**. Father can bring the puzzles home."

Sarek raised a brow at this, and Amanda chuckled.

"He's got your negotiating skills." She said, giving Sarek an amused glance. She turned to Spock. "We are all going to go together. You'll like the puzzles, Spock."

Spock glanced from his mother to his father. "So long as I don't go 'lone," he allowed.

Sarek would almost have preferred to take Spock for testing himself. He was still terribly concerned that Spock was unready for this, and that a too soon exposure of his son to school authorities, and an unfavorable showing on Spock's part might prejudice forever his son's ability to attend the institution Sarek favored for him. But Subor had stated he wanted to see Amanda. And Amanda needed to ask questions of Subor.

Amanda was yet another unknown element. Sarek was used to her human ways. Even found them occasionally diverting. She **could** behave in an entirely Vulcan way, when requirements and her own inclinations led her to do so. He was not sure if **this** was one of those times.

They went together to school, after Spock was togged out in suitable Vulcan clothes, and Sarek dressed in imposing Council wear. Even Vulcans weren't immune to authority. On the off chance his own position would lend Spock any needed consideration, he wouldn't hesitate to use that advantage.

Out of the aircar, Spock had a momentary crisis of nerve, and wanted to climb back in his mother's arms. Choosing the lesser of two evils, they walked hand in hand into the building, with Spock between them.

Inside, Spock literally shivered, and turned to Amanda again.

"Spock," Sarek said urgently, watching the child's behavior disintegrate.

Subor came up to them, took one look at Spock and said, "Bring him to my office, at once."

Sarek picked up the child and carried him in.

Behind the closed and shielded doors of Subor's office, the color went back into Spock's face and his breath came more easily.

Subor watched while Spock accepted some water from Amanda, and met Sarek's eyes. "My apologies, Sarek. I had no idea."

"Of what are you speaking?"

"Perhaps it is because his mother is relatively psi-null," Subor mused.

"I'm not **that** bad," Amanda countered.

"Compared to Vulcans," Subor amended.

"What do you mean?" Sarek asked.

"The reason why Spock is so sensitive. It is not a trait that runs in your hereditary lines," Subor said, glancing at Sarek. "But in the absence of his mother's abilities in the parental bond, Spock may have been forced to compensate. Or he could simply be a throwback to ancient Vulcan abilities. He is very psi-sensitive. Naturally, an environment like this, with many children who barrier only imperfectly, would be distressing to him. Does he show this distress when you leave the Fortress, Lady Amanda?" Subor asked.

"Sometimes he gets fussy, and wants to be picked up," Amanda conceded.

"Your physical contact would allow him to barrier behind your own relatively psi-null shielding."

"What can be done?" Sarek asked.

"We will have to train him to develop his own shields. In the interim, he should be schooled only in environments that minimize the impact of unshielded minds, or he will be forced to barrier reflexively and perhaps lose his talents. And when he is distressed, as you say, Lady Amanda, you must pick him up or otherwise shield him." Subor looked at Sarek. "You might do well to consult a specialist psiometrist. The parental bond you have with Spock seems rather shallow to my imperfect senses, given his abilities. Did you create it yourself?"

"I did. And Spock's with his mother."

"No doubt it is suitable for a child with average psi skills. No doubt you perceive nothing amiss. But for a child of Spock's abilities, I suspect it is wanting. That could adversely affect him. You might consider having it professionally strengthened. If you wish, I will provide the recommendation of a psiometrist skilled in such things."

"That would be useful," Sarek said.

"His abilities are strong enough to consider the healing professions for him," Subor mused, eyeing Spock.

"Spock will **not** be a healer," Sarek countered firmly, giving Subor a pointed glance.

Subor looked up at him. "Yes, of course. My apologies. My assessment was a general one, without taking into account Spock's clan responsibilities.

'You said there would be puzzles," Spock suddenly accused his parents, in perfect Vulcanur, echoing Subor's use of that language.

"And indeed there are, young sir," Subor said, absently giving him the courtesy title of an heir to Surak. Sarek relaxed a trifle himself at that casual reference. "Let us find you some."

They did find Spock some puzzles. To keep from stressing Spock's infant telepathic shields, Spock did them in a secluded psi-shielded room with a windowed observation port for the few instructors Subor invited to observe.

Sarek worked with Spock for the first few. When Spock tired and grew fussy, Amanda substituted. Sarek came out, tired himself and reflecting that dealing with a two year old at times was more trying than the worst of conference negotiations.

He checked in with his chief aide between the testing room and Subor's office. While understanding why Sarek was absent, Sandor was urgent in his request for Sarek to return to Council as soon after as was feasible. Sarek rejoined Subor with the barest trace of a sigh.

"It is regrettable that your wife teaches at the VSA," Subor said, when Sarek joined him.

"Why do you say that," Sarek asked, reflexively suspicious.

"She is quite wasted on graduate students," Subor said, with a primary school educator's prejudiced scorn for the limited skills necessary for teachers of advanced students. "**They** can study on their own. We could use her in the primary school. Her ability to distract toddlers from undesirable behaviors and reguide them to desirable ones is very deft." He looked at Sarek raising an ironic brow. "Though she might have developed those skills from very recent necessity. She certainly needed to develop them quickly if she was not naturally gifted. Spock shows every sign of being as stubborn as his father."

Sarek glanced through the port, where Spock was having a melt down over a logic puzzle.

"Boring, boring, boring!" Spock pronounced as he swept the pieces away from him and the puzzle crashed to the floor.

"How about this?" Amanda said, searching through the test materials, and found something that held that magic talisman, an equal sign. Spock's eyes widened and he leaned into the materials she set up, and soon they were engaged in that.

"I warned you that he would be emotional," Sarek said.

"That does not concern me, at present," Subor said absently. "What does concern me are these unexpected psi skills. That complicates matters considerably. His teachers will have to be very carefully selected. Indeed, I am not sure I have staff eligible to train him."

Amanda and Spock had gone through the tests involving physical manipulation of symbols, to computer controlled tests. Spock took the controls from her and manipulated the screen results. "I see he can read Vulcanur," Subor noted, as Spock worked through the materials.

"He can read English," Sarek admitted. "I was not aware Amanda had tested him yet for Vulcanur."

"The test is before us," Subor said.

Spock developed a second meltdown over some Vulcan mathematical symbols Amanda could not satisfactorily explain. She tried to distract him with music, seizing a nearby lyre and singing to him.

"What a lovely voice she has," Subor noted. "She has no difficulty sustaining tone in what must be an oxygen-deprived atmosphere for her. Spock is quite fortunate."

In a few moments, Spock was down, tear clotted lashes knitted together in sleep. Amanda pressed the intercom button. "I'm afraid we are out for the count for at least a few hours."

"We will stop, for today," Subor said.

Amanda came in, holding Spock in her arms. Giving her a reproving glance for carrying his weight, Sarek took the child from her.

"I will review and calibrate the results over the next day," Subor said.

Amanda tilted her head. "You must have some general opinion," she said.

"It is a complex problem," Subor said. "Your unusual teaching methods – the combination of music and creativity, and …inductive reasoning, have expedited what I suspect are Spock's natural abilities. His psi gifts will both hamper and assist him, in different ways. It will require a considerable conference of the best minds to discern how to teach him to his ultimate advantage in logic, without hampering his psi development. I have no idea at present how to do so."

"But he is smart," Amanda asked, with dogged insistence.

Subor raised a brow in surprise. "He is quite brilliant. Beyond any parochial species' standards. You need never fear he will bring less than honor to your house in his intellectual pursuits," he said to Sarek. "He will need to be carefully trained, however."

"What about school?" Amanda asked worriedly, falling to her next concern.

"We must first address how to handle his psi abilities. And quickly. That I can now foresee is even more urgent than addressing his logical gifts. Nothing can be done regarding the latter until we have developed a plan for handling the former."

"It never rains but it pours," Amanda said reflectively.

"It seldom rains in Shikhar, Lady Amanda," Subor said, surprised by this non-sequitor.

Sarek and Amanda, who both understood her meaning, traded an ironic glance.

Before they exited the school, when Amanda left them briefly to attend to a personal need, Sarek spoke on an issue that had been concerning him "Subor, T'Pau was informed of Spock's language problems. Did you speak to her?"

"Indeed not," Subor said.

"**Someone** did." Sarek said. "I would prefer Spock's test results, and those on your staff who analyze them, be told of the need to keep them confidential."

"I believe there could be nothing in his test results that would in any way adversely reflect upon him," Subor said, surprised. "Or on either of his parents."

"You may not believe so," Sarek said, "but others might. My preferences stand."

"I will encrypt them," Subor said, "under my personal code."

Subor's precautions proved frustrating for someone. Later that afternoon, the educator heard an unVulcan commotion in his outer office. When he looked up from his work, to his surprise he saw two warriors from the ancient palace guard enter the room. After a moment these were followed by two more, flanking the legendary T'Pau.

"Matriarch," Subor said, and rose deferentially.

"I am not here for Council ceremonials," she said. The guard placed a chair for T'Pau. She sat and Subor forwent the traditional greetings.

"How may I serve, Matriarch?" he asked, after she banished her guard.

"I come about that child," T'Pau said. "I know you have been consulted regarding him.

"Indeed?" Subor raised a brow, sitting across from her. "Interesting. Who has so informed you?"

"I ask the questions of **you**," T'Pau said. "And now you have been consulted again."

"You are well informed."

"Not well enough informed. What is the child's debility?"

"Debility?" Subor questioned, a slight frown appearing between his brows.

"I had heard he could not speak."

"You are misinformed," Subor assured her. "Spock's examinations are confidential. But I will correct you on that point. There was a prior temporary difficulty. But Spock is now reasonably proficient in Vulcanur for a child of his age. He is perhaps slightly more fluent in Federation Standard. But that is natural given his circumstances."

"Natural?" T'Pau said, her eyes glittering.

"You were misinformed, T'Pau," Subor repeated doggedly. "Having enlightened you on that point, I trust you are satisfied."

"If he is not deficient, why is Sarek here again? The child is too young for any formal education. What other purpose, other than to correct a further serious deficiency in a timely manner could cause Sarek to consult here long before the child should need this institution?"

"I cannot say."

"I am Matriarch." T'Pau said.

"I cannot say," Subor repeated.

"Sarek intends to present this child to Council as his heir. I **will** **know** the scope of his defects."

"I repeat. You were misinformed."

"Then **inform** me, educator," T'Pau said. "For the future of Vulcan itself depends on it. And I command it."

"You were misinformed. There is no defect," Subor insisted.

"Then why does Sarek bring the child here? Must I bring a Matriarch's edict for you to answer that? For I can, and will."

"I will **not** give you specifics. For that you must go to Sarek. Or bring your edict. But I will correct the misinterpretation under which you are laboring." Sarek brings him here because the child is gifted."

T'Pau drew back at this. "Gifted?"

"His skills in logic are considerable. I have never seen a child so young with such innate abilities. And he shows definite gifts above the norm in psi."

"Above the norm for humans." T'Pau said.

"Above those of Vulcans," Subor corrected. "He is," Subor met T'Pau's gaze squarely, "brilliant."

"Brilliant," T'Pau repeated. "You claim that? You, who educate our best?"

"He will be one of them," Subor predicted. "This school will be honored to accept him as a student."

"I will not have it," T'Pau said.

Subor own brows rose in astonishment. "Would you have the son of Sarek educated elsewhere?"

"Sarek **has** no son."

"T'Pau," Subor said, speaking to her kinsman to kinsman, ignoring her title. "Sofet, my father, sits on Council. I know of your proposal. This child does not deserve your enmity. Nor does his mother."

"Do not speak to me of her."

"You **might** meet her," Subor suggested. "I take it you have not?"

"I have no enmity for the child," T'Pau said. "But I will not have him as heir to Council. The mother is another matter. **She** will be Sarek's undoing."

"They appear well-bonded, T'Pau. To anyone who sees them together, any Vulcan, it is obvious."

"I have decreed she is consort only," T'Pau insisted. "Sarek has yet to enter a true bond with a Vulcan woman, as he must. As for the human, I will not meet her. I will not look upon her face. Neither hers nor that bastard child of hers."

"I have no other information for you then," Subor said stiffly. But as T'Pau's guard escorted her out, he added to himself. "If Sarek has his way, Spock will surprise you. He will surprise you in more ways than those of mere ability. I do not envy you then, T'Pau."

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**by**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 10**

In Council Keep, one of the sub chambers held a group of Vulcans, some of the most prominent clan leaders in the Council, those who could influence the votes of others. Normally near invincible politicians, they themselves were now struggling to reconcile the irreconcilable.

"To ask a Vulcan male to choose between family and clan is **unVulcan**," Slongas, the clan leader who had called the conference ventured.

"Indeed. Family is clan. Clan is family." Sofet said.

"T'Pau should have never have sent an unbonded male to the Federation," said Skigas. "Having done so, she must accept the consequences. Even if that consequence involves a human daughter-in-law."

"And a half-human heir?" Slongas questioned.

"T'Pau intended **T'Lean** for him. But Sarek would not commit," Smural said. "It must be difficult for T'Pau to see her favored aide rejected for a human."

"Do you blame Sarek?" Sofet asked ironically. The others let this pass.

"T'Lean still waits in expectation for Sarek," Smural said. T'Lean was distantly related to his clan and he had a slight if vested interest in her affairs. Or lack of them. "T'Pau has convinced her to do so."

"T'Pau should have sent T'Lean **with** him, instead of keeping her favored attendant at her side leaving **his** intended light-years away when the _Time_ came," Skigas said.

"Sarek chose this human **outside** of the _Time_," Sofet argued. "His choice was not forced on him by lack of opportunity."

"If he had been bonded, he would not have so chosen," Smural said.

"Bonding is no guarantee. There **are** those who are bonded, and who yet seek consorts and Challenge," said Skigas, who had had the shame of a Challenge in his own family.

"You know we do not **speak** of such things." Slongas said.

"It was still folly to have sent Sarek unbonded far from Vulcan," Smural argued.

"**None** of that is relevant **now**," Sofet said.

"True," Slongas agreed. "What is done, is done. He is bonded to the human."

"T'Pau disagrees," Smural noted.

"Is not Sarek the only one to decide when and if he has been bonded?" Slongas asked.

"He went through a _Time_. He has this child from her as well. He has petitioned for her inclusion in the clan. I do not see how T'Pau can deny **any** of this," Sofet argued. "Or believe he can bond to another, unwilling as he is."

"She has blocked the human from inclusion in the clan," Smural said. "What could be more definite?"

"But what of the child? He has the blood of Surak," said Slongas.

"The boy is unimportant. He may not even be viable," Skigas said.

"Do you consider the heirship to the clan of Surak unimportant?" Sofet asked.

"T'Pau determines clan marriage adoptions, though Sarek leads the Clan. And Sarek will lead Council for another hundred years or more. Much can happen before them. It is Council **now** we must concern ourselves with," Slongas argued.

"And for that we must have Sarek." Sofet looked around at the assembled group. "Would you vote to deny the last son of Surak the right to present **his** son to Council in the ancient rites? To defy Council protocol in this manner? To go against Surak's Constructs? I for one will not."

"And this rift between Sarek and T'Pau?" Slongas asked uneasily.

"What if T'Pau never accepts this child into the clan? How can he then be Sarek's heir?" Skigas asked.

"Why has Sarek not insisted on the mother's being accepted?" Smural wanted to know.

"T'Pau will not live forever. Will you care to face Sarek in Council when T'Pau is gone?" Slongas wondered.

"And if we agree with T'Pau? Are you prepared to amend the Constructs? Withdraw Vulcan from the Federation? Severely impact the Vulcan economy? Explain to the Vulcan Alliance that we have gone back on a thousands' year truce because of one human female?" Sofet asked.

There was silence among the assembled.

"The corollaries may not follow," Smural finally ventured.

"Does anyone doubt their logic?" Sofet asked.

"I agree," Slongas said. "The amendment has consequences that cannot be logically denied. That as clan leaders we must in all logic consider. If T'Pau does not accept that, then her logic is flawed."

"You would tell T'Pau that? Her logic has been invariably flawless." Skigas said.

"Can it be this human has affected her logic?" Smural said.

"She certainly has turned Sarek's head," Sofet said with reluctant admiration.

"Humans spread illogic wherever they go," Skigas said.

"In the absence of Sarek, with T'Pau refusing to elaborate, what can be done?" wondered Slongas.

"We must ask Senchai." Sofet said.

"Senchai?" Several Vulcans spoke at once.

"**You** can ask Senchai." Skigas said with a faint shudder.

"I would rather face a lematya." Smural agreed.

"Senchai is **mad**." Slongas said.

"He is aged," Sofet allowed. "**Eccentric** as the aged can sometimes be. But he knows Vulcan history, Council history, clan history, as none other. He has been the Council Historian since our grandfathers' time." Sofet said. "Who better to get a ruling on the legality of Sarek's choice?"

"It can do no harm to ask." Smural said, then added. "But **you** can ask."

"Perhaps even T'Pau would be swayed by Senchai's ruling?" Skigas ventured.

"Do you honestly think she would care? She is Matriarch." Smural said.

"We must try." Sofet insisted.

The assembled made their reluctant way down to Senchai's archives, which were located far below the surface, in deep caverns below Council Keep. The archives were buried there both for security's sake, in the long ago days when wars were still fought and ancient records had to be protected from attack. And because the deep caverns preserved documents well. But they preserved more than just documents.

Some said Senchai had not seen the light of day since he had passed the third century mark decades ago. Regardless, the deep caverns seem to have preserved him, too. If not as perfectly as his cherished clan archives, then at least enough that he was still alive past when almost every other Vulcan had made the long journey to Mount Selaya.

Senchai was ancient even by Vulcan standards, wizened and withered to a dried up husk. He was nearly blind, but his hearing was as keen as ever. He had his long suffering aides read all the new Council proposals, edicts and amendments to him. He sometimes even sent comments back. It was rumored that Sarek always read them. But he did not generally read them aloud to Council.

"Who are these rabble," Senchai said, when the deputation arrived at his door. "Guard! Call the Guard!" His voice rose in fury. "Bar the door!"

"It is a group of Council Leaders, Senchai," one of his aides said, raising his gaze from a sheaf of ancient clan records so brittle they crumbled with his breath. "And there has been no Guard posted at the door for more than two centuries," he added dryly.

"Council Leaders?" Senchai snorted. "Pompous upstarts. None of them could recite the Constructs on a bet, I would wager. You!" he said to the tallest, Slongas, who registered dimly on his feeble eyes. Do you even know who Surak was?"

"We come regarding T'Pau's latest proposal, Senchai," this chosen head of the deputation humbly ventured.

"We read it to you yesterday," one of his aides prompted Senchai helpfully.

"I know! You don't need to remind me! I'm not doddering."

"T'Pau's amendment," the aide repeated again, with patient insistence.

"I remember her! Fetching girl. Married the heir to Surak."

"She is Matriarch now," the aide reminded him.

"Mean as a lematya," Senchai reversed himself. "Stinging as a scorpion. One reason why I haven't gone up in fifty years," he added. "Guard! Keep her away!"

"This is a deputation of **scholars**," his aide said suggestively, forestalling the clan leaders edging surreptitiously to the door with a slight gesture, "who wish to hear your **evaluation** of T'Pau's amendment. The one regarding the son of Sarek."

"Sarek had a son?" Senchai's blind eyes opened wide in astonishment. "He's nothing but a child himself."

"The child Spock. Son of Amanda. The one about whom T'Pau amendment concerns. The one we read to you **yesterday**."

Senchai's nodded. "I remember now. The human. That **was** a surprise," He sat back, raising his brows in pleasurable consideration. "You don't often see a **human** marry into the clans. Come to think of it," he blinked. "I've never even laid eyes on a human. To think that one has bonded to the son of Surak."

"But remember, Senchai, T'Pau seeks to ban the child from inheriting Council," his aide said.

"Can't!" Senchai said, shooting out a denying arm, scattering a few precious parchments, which two aides did a little dance to recapture as they wafted through the air shedding dust motes. "An heir is an heir. The son of the father inherits. It's in the Constructs." He gave the group a withering glance. "Not that any of these prating upstarts knows the **real** Constructs. Probably never even seen the original documents."

"They could not anyway. Those documents are rare enough to be restricted to perusal by certified historical archivists only," the aide said soothingly.

"That's no excuse! None of these young cubs has probably seen their own bicentennial. Much less studied here in the archives, apprenticed themselves to the **true** history of Vulcan."

"These are Council **leaders**. The heirs to the clans of-"

"Trained up on reconstituted, homogenized **pap**!" Senchai thundered at them, while they edged backwards again. "Nobody teaches the **true** history of the Vulcan clans anymore. Just what they **want** people to know. Some even claim Vulcans **have** no emotions! I warned T'Pau!" he waved a finger, and caught his balance with difficulty. Two aides moved to either side of him to stand guard in case of future losses of balance.

"But the child of a human-" Slongas ventured, trying to get Senchai back on point.

"Human, Romulan, Rigeilian. Doesn't matter. There's precedent! Vulcan P.R. 9652. Sadren bonded to Krila, a Romulan captive. Their son Sudet inherited. Vulcan P.R. 8537 Sunfisk took a Rigellian as a consort. In the absence of any legal heirs, their son Sfisket inherited. Vulcan P.R 6832-"

"These are examples **prior** to Surak," Slongas said stubbornly. "They are not relevant post Reform."

"You want examples after the Reforms? Got tons of them. Vulcan A.R. 123 Sanderai bonded to a passing Rigelian diplomat. Vulcan A.R. 2252 Sgellan captured a Romulan, bonded to her, their son Sgellas inherited. Vulcan A.R.-"

"Rigellians and Romulans are closely related to Vulcans, physiologically," Skigas ventured. "There is a shared ancient history, and a physiological ancestor. This is a **human**."

Senchai peered through the dimness of his vision at Skigas. "The kid has one head? Two arms, two eyes? Breathes the air and not sulphuric acid? Doesn't spit fire or speak in tongues? Not that any of that matters," he said sarcastically. "If the sperm and the eggs combine together well enough to birth a child, the son inherits. Doesn't matter if he looks like a Rigellian sand worm." He half choked, repressing unVulcan amusement. "A sand worm! I'd like to see **that** lead Council. Serve that spineless group right!"

"Spock's mother has not been accepted into the clan," Sofet said softly.

"Not by **my** hand," Senchai claimed, folding his arms across his chest. He nearly toppled backwards, except for one of his aides propping him up. He shook off the aide irritatedly with surprising strength, sending the Vulcan skidding. "I saw that application by …who was it?" he snapped his fingers at his aide.

"Sarek," the aide came back patiently, straightening as he regained his own balance.

"I remember him! Stubborn kid. Pigheaded as a Tellurite. Not surprised he's a troublemaker now. I **approved** it. No reason not to. Heard it stalled on T'Pau's desk. She deserves him, the old witch. Mind you," he extended a stubby finger, "there never was an heir to Surak that **wasn't** a troublemaker. The rest of us should have offed the lot millennia ago."

"Senchai," Slongas protested faintly.

"Proves **you** don't know your history. We tried to. How we tried," he said in pleasurable reminiscence. "I could tell you such tales. War upon war." He came back to himself, scowled at the group, gesturing imperiously. "Except they're too darn hard to kill and too stubborn to give in. 's why they **win** every war. Lost a lot of good Vulcans trying to rid the planet of **that** family over the millennia. Too late for the plomeek-fed lot we have now." He glared again at the deputation, who shifted uneasily among themselves. "No, we set them up in power and we're stuck with them. No use bellyaching over it. I say give Sarek his way and be done with him. It's a historical fact that Vulcan always ends up doing what **they** want in the long run. No use trying to fight them. We'll save a lot of bloodshed if we don't. The whole planet caved ten thousand years ago to that clan in the first Pre-Reform wars. We followed Surak like rut-crazed sehlats five thousand years later. None of us have had the gumption to displace them. And in justice, lirpa-wielding, peace-prating lot though they are, they **have **served us pretty well. We've never known a conqueror, in spite of Romulans and others trying their best." He raised a brow. "But neither have **that** lot. Don't fight 'em, that's my advice. That is, if you take a page from history."

"But a human-" Slongas said.

"Human, Rigellian, Romulan, what's the difference? Don't you understand simple Vulcanur?" He glared at them with his half blind eyes. "This isn't high level logic. Even a clan leader **today** ought to be able to conceptualize a few facts and follow a simple logical chain. There's simply no **precedent** for denial."

"T'Pau—"

"T'Pau's overstepped herself. And she's not of Surak's clan by more than marriage. Darn upstart herself. Has no business overriding – what's that boy's name?" He turned on his aide in fury. "Why can't you tell me it when I ask you? Standing there with your mouth open, useless!"

"Sarek," the aide repeated patiently.

"I remember him! Said I did. Smart kid. Glad he found himself a girl worth a fight. Not that there's any **grounds** for one here. There's no precedent for denying an heir based on the **mother's** blood. None at all. And it's about time someone brought some **new** blood into these clans. Been too long. I haven't seen a single tight-skirted, close-braided, cold-blooded, logic-prating prissy virgin worth tempting **me** into a _Time _for nigh on the past century." He reflected on that, while the Councilors shifted uneasily at this reference to _Pon Far_. "Yes," he allowed, "I'd go upstairs to get a good look at this **human**, but I might run into that deutronium-plated Matriarch of ours. Typical for a son of Surak to go and fetch himself a winner rather than swallow the usual lematya-bait they tried to foist on him." He glared at Slongas with suddenly piercing intensity. "And why should **you** whine about the girl? She gave Sarek an heir, didn't she? And I'll bet she knows how to get through a _Time _without lying frozen like some phaser-stunned Kohlinar acolyte reciting Surak's principles of non-emotion."

"But Senchai, humans are -"

"There's no precedent! Get that, geniuses? Now get out," he said, his voice fading into an aged, senile whine. "It's past time I had my lunch."

"You had luncheon just half an hour ago," his aide said patiently.

"Then it's past time for my **nap**. Call the damn guard and get these upstarts out!" He raised his reedlike voice in fury, nearly toppling himself over again. "Guard! Guard!"

The clan leaders filed out.

"We'll prepare you a position paper by tomorrow," one aide muttered below Senchai's hearing. "But Senchai is correct. There **is** no question from a historical perspective."

"Is he mad?" Slongas asked the aide.

"You can ask that?" the aide said dryly. "He is more sane, based on what I hear, than that which is going on between T'Pau and Sarek. Councilor," he added with cold formally before closing the door in Slongas' face.

"That was pointless," Skigas said, when they had regained the sanity and sanctity, of the upper levels.

"I told you he was mad," Smural muttered.

"He'd mad, perhaps." Sofet said. "But he is also right."

"Humans are not Rigelians. They are not even Romulans." Smural said.

"The question is," Slongas said. "Are you going to side with the heir to Surak, the head of Council and the legal Council historian, even though one is human-blinded and the other mad? Or are you going to side with a Matriarch who is going to rule for another hundred years, even if she takes us down a path of economic destruction and leave us open to a Romulan invasion? T'Pau has the power for all clan adoptions. Sarek rules Council. And Vulcan, for the most part."

"But the areas that he does not rule, T'Pau does. And this is in her province."

There was a long silence for a moment as the leaders considered these unattractive alternatives.

"We are Council," Sofet said. "We also rule. In spite of Senchai's claims. T'Pau and Sarek may lead, even in different directions, but it is for us to decide whom to follow. Or even chart a new course for Vulcan."

"Try to get Council to accept that," Smural said.

"Senchai was right," Skigas said.

"That Council should accept Spock?" Sofet asked.

"No. We should have offed the sons of Surak millennia ago," he said, with some unVulcan feeling.

An insistent signal at the door of the conference room revealed Sandor, Sarek's aide, behind the portal.

"You asked to see Sarek as soon as he arrived?" Sandor said. "He is here."

The group filed into Sarek's office, hoping against hope, though their recent history lesson had banished much of that.

Sarek appeared as he always did in Council. Cool, calm, controlled. Even indifferent. He was not behind his desk, but staring out the long windows across the vast complex of Council Keep. Beneath them, the ceremonial guard was changing. Buses full of tour groups were disgorging, the tourists lining up behind the outer gates, pointing and taking holos.

"You have asked for my response to T'Pau's proposed amendment."

"Yes, Sarek," Slongas stepped forward.

Sarek was still looking out across the complex as he spoke. "This legislation is more than just a violation of the Constructs that have guided us for five thousand years of peace. It jeopardizes Vulcan's standing in the Federation, its economic future, the alliances we have forged to our mutual protection from the Romulans and the defenses of the entire quadrant of space. As Leader of the Clan of Surak, I oppose this amendment in each of its logical derivations, but also in the amendment itself, which seeks to reject IDIC, the cornerstone of which our peace principles is based." He glanced back at the group, his words mild compared to their import. "The Clan of Surak, **my** clan, will not stand to see this amendment passed."

"Have you your clan behind you, Sarek?" Sofet dared to ask.

Sarek turned slightly toward the group. "I believe that I do. I also believe that the majority of Council will agree. However," Sarek paused, eyeing each of the deputation in turn. "Should Council reject the principles of IDIC by voting for T'Pau's amendment, in part or in whole, I will not stand at its head."

"You seek unanimity in Council?" Slongas said, openly amazed. "Total unanimity?"

"Unanimity, by definition, is total," Sarek pointed out.

"But **T'Pau** sits on Council," Sofet said.

"Quite." Sarek said.

"She has brought this amendment. She would of necessity be a dissenting vote to your position."

"I will not see the Council divided on the principles of IDIC," Sarek said. "If Council votes with T'Pau, even to a single vote, I will resign as Council Head."

This pronouncement hit the group like an ancient battering ram.

"You would leave Council? To do what?" Slongas said. "Serve where?"

"The Federation is large," Sarek said, his eyes glittering. "And there are many who will not renounce those principles. I am sure there is a world, a colony, that my clan, and those who stand for Surak can live among the principles he envisaged. And the ancient alliance, as well as ties with the Federation, as well as Romulan defenses can be preserved from a new clan seat on a new Vulcan."

"You would leave Vulcan?"

"Negative," Sarek said. "In that case, it would be an unVulcan few who would have left Vulcan principles themselves, even if they remain on a planet that has rejected its most important heritage. The planet does not matter, Councilors. If T'Pau's amendment passes, it is a dry husk that once housed a vibrant philosophy. The principles, the values of that philosophy are what matter. Wherever they are practiced."

"But Vulcan-"

"Our homes. Businesses-" another said.

"Sarek, would you not reconsider," Sofet asked urgently, knowing T'Pau well. "To allow merely a simple **majority**. Even to allow **one** vote in opposition to you-"

"I will not," Sarek said. "My mind is quite made up."

There was silent among the group.

"Have you any other questions?" Sarek asked.

Slongas glanced at the stunned delegation. "For now, no."

Sarek nodded curtly. "Then, as you can imagine, Councilors, I have many tasks before me."

Out in the corridor, the delegation simply stood, too stunned to move further.

Slongas was the first to speak. "Well, that **is** a son of Surak," he said, in reluctant regret and admiration. "He will drag the planet with him, or tear it asunder. Senchai was right. What could be more historically fitting?"

"But T'Pau will never yield." Smural said. "What say you, Sofet? You know her well."

Sofet eyed Skigas, and raised a brow. "You wished to rid Vulcan of the sons of Surak," the elderly Vulcan tilted his head fractionally in a Vulcan shrug. "Sarek may have just given you the opportunity." He drew a breath. "Well, I for one will find the prospect of a new colony world…invigorating."

"You cannot be serious, Sofet," Slongas said.

"Do you dare to think Sarek is not?" Sofet asked. "We all know **what** he is. And **that** he will do it. There is historical precedent for more than Spock's inheritance. T'Pau may end up Matriarch of a ghost planet. And I know where my loyalties lie."

Sofet left the group staring among each other in dismay.

"If neither T'Pau nor Sarek will compromise, then we are at a stalemate," Slongas said. "Precipitating toward a crisis."

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**by**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 11**

When Sarek returned from Council, Spock was still up, but barely, being sung to sleep. Sarek paused in the corridor outside his son's bedroom just to enjoy, for a few indulgent moments, the sound of his wife's voice raised in song. He listened appreciatively as she sang their son a lullaby, Sarek's own eyes half closed, letting his barriers drop reflexively in relaxation after his own long, stressful day.

"Sing the spider song," Spock said, sleepily in his croaky little voice, when she had finished.

Amanda did, the sing-song tale of a determined spider, climbing a spout only to be washed away by rain and adversity, and rising again with the sun. Spock joined drowsily into it. His voice might be on pitch, but his toddler's cadence added nothing to his mother's sweet soprano. The incongruity of a Vulcan child, singing about creatures that didn't exist on Vulcan, being washed away by a rain that Spock had never seen, seemed lost to Amanda.

But Sarek had other pressing reasons to be concerned over his son engaging in such human behavior.

The spell thus broken for Sarek, he chose that moment to quietly enter. And fell under a different spell again. Amanda was sitting in her rocking chair, the one piece of furniture that she insisted be shipped from Terra when she had discovered she was pregnant.

Sarek himself had thought the chair an odd construction. A more unsteady, wobbly, rickety, shaky, ill-balanced, unstable piece of furniture, particularly when one was burdened with the additional weight of an infant, Sarek could not imagine. He had tried it once, and failed to appreciate its alleged charms. But Amanda favored it above any other spot when nursing or tending her infant. And Spock seemed to like the rocking motion, too, regardless of his father's opinion. Though Sarek thought him too old now to be rocked to sleep.

But with breath in his lungs ready to remind Amanda of that fact, Sarek fell under the spell of his wife's face, softened with love, arms curled around Spock, cradling him close as she rocked and they sang. Next to them lay I-Chiya, his huge bulk curled into an impossibly small ball, apparently also enjoying the impromptu concert. The sight of his little family in this peaceful moment, after his stressful day, literally took Sarek's breath away, as well as all thought of the opinion he had been about to relate.

With the resilience of youth, and long familiarity making him less susceptible to the emotional spell that had captivated Sarek, Spock noticed his father. He shook off his drowsiness and his mother's arms in the same instant. Small and warm, clean in fuzzy sleepers, with silken hair and clutching hands, he launched himself at his father. It did cost Sarek an unVulcan something not to embrace his child in kind.

But unlike Amanda, he had gone through rigorous training as a Vulcan youth. It had forged him as it did all Vulcans. And as he had done before, Sarek deflected this enthusiastic human embrace, changing it to an appropriate familial Vulcan one, and saying the ritual Vulcanur words in turn.

Spock looked up at him, puzzled and confused.

I-Chiya whined in protest, and his stubby tail, which had been thumping in greeting, went still.

"It is time for you to retire, Spock," Sarek said, deliberately overlooking his son's disappointed reaction. "You require your rest."

"Want to sing," Spock said truculently in English, dropping his hands. Turning away from his father, he went back to his mother, climbing back up into her lap and her waiting arms.

"It is long past time for you to be singing," Sarek said to him.

Spock looked at him, stubborn in spite of fighting sleep. "Want to sing."

"Your father's right," Amanda said, "It's time for bed, darling," She picked him up in spite of Sarek's aborted protest, put him in his crib, kissed him. "We'll sing tomorrow," she promised.

"Amanda," Sarek began.

She glanced at him, a brief inquiring look, before turning back to her son. Spock had fallen asleep even before Amanda finished drawing up his blankets.

"That child is much too heavy for you to carry now," Sarek said as he followed Amanda through the connecting door into their own suite, I-Chiya, rising with a grunt, trailing at his heels. "It is time for him to have a low bed he does not need to be lifted into."

"Oh, not so soon," Amanda protested. "He **can** climb out of the crib, of course. But he knows he's not supposed to. If I don't make him wait too long, he sort of respects his crib as a place where he stays, after a nap or in the morning, until I come get him. With a low bed, he'll be too tempted, and he'll be all over the house, into all sorts of mischief, before I know it. I **need** that crib a while yet. He's not ready for that responsibility. And he's not too heavy for me to lift."

"It's past time for him to learn the discipline of obedience, so that he doesn't fall into mischief when he is not being watched."

"Good luck with that," Amanda with feeling, glancing back at him as she stepped toward their bath. "I'm just going to take a quick shower before dinner. You haven't eaten, have you? Are you hungry?"

"No. Yes," Sarek said, watching as she fastidiously stripped off her t-shirt and shorts with a mincing grimace.

"I meant to take one before you got home," she explained, "but Spock was so fussy being given his dinner, and then didn't want to go to sleep that I ran out of time. I feel so **grubby** after an afternoon of chasing after him." She tossed her abandoned clothes at the clothes fresher.

Sarek picked them up reflexively and put them in the machine. Rose scented steam wafted from the bath as Amanda started her shower. I-Chiya started instinctively and eagerly toward the damp air, before Sarek caught him repressively by the ruff.

"**You** do not need a shower," Sarek told him.

"Rouwf," I-Chiya disagreed.

Amanda came out, belted in a short terry robe, just as the clothes fresher chimed. Sarek offered her the cleaned and folded garments but she grimaced, and waved them away. "No. I'm done with dressing like a camp counselor for the day. I want something pretty."

I-Chiya moved in front of her, catching her robe in his fangs, giving her a grumbled complaint, but she prodded him away with a bare toe. "No comments from you, you walking rug. I'll feed you in a minute." Scrutinizing her closet, she came out wearing an embroidered sundress, she unbraided and brushed out her long hair, and finally gave her reflection a satisfied glance. "I needed that. I feel much more human now."

"Did you feel Vulcan before?" Sarek asked, curious in spite of himself.

"More like a child-care automaton," Amanda said ruefully, "I was a little tired. Your son can wear me out."

Sarek wondered how she could consider the emotional scene he had walked in on presided over by an automaton.

"But I am refreshed now," she said, and gave him a relieved smile. "How about dinner?"

I-Chiya roared at that.

"Yes, you're next," Amanda said. "And I'm starving too," she said to Sarek, following I-Chiya as he trooped down the stairs. "What **was** that thing you did with your hands when you came home?"

"Excuse me?" Sarek asked, not quite believing what he had heard.

"Some secret Vulcan handshake?" She asked, with a slight smile.

Sarek was shocked enough that his surprise filtered across his face. "That is a Vulcan familial embrace. Appropriate between family members. How can you not know of it?"

"The more pertinent question is how could I?" Amanda asked wryly. "I know this," she waved her hand with two fingers extended. "Because **you** taught it to me. It's not likely I'd have another reason to know it. I don't have any other family on Vulcan."

"I am sure you must have seen it before," Sarek ventured, searching his memory for where she might have, and coming up blank.

"Sarek, I am a human in an entirely alien culture," she said, rolling her eyes. "I see a **lot **that I have never seen before. If I asked you every day about all of the things that I don't understand, that are unfamiliar to me, you would never have a moment to work, or sleep, or do anything else."

"I had not considered that," Sarek said, troubled anew.

"If I saw that embrace before, it was in the context of so much other that was unfamiliar, that it didn't seem worth your time to ask. I save my questions for things that seem relevant to me. As," she gave him a flashing look from her blue eyes, "in when you use it with my son."

I-Chiya roared impatiently,

"Oh, yes, you're relevant too." Amanda ferreted out the sehlat's dinner from the stasis unit, and stood aside to let the creature carry it off.

Meanwhile, Sarek sat down at the kitchen table almost as if he needed to, and rubbed his forehead meditatively with two fingers.

"What?" Amanda asked, turning and seeing him distressed.

"I am beginning to comprehend the difficulty of raising Spock as a Vulcan child," he said dryly, steepling his fingers.

"And **when** did we decide on that?" Amanda asked, brows raised in astonishment.

The steepled fingers moved to rub his temples. "Perhaps that was another assumption of mine."

Amanda sat across from him. "I mean, yes, **of course** we are going to raise him as Vulcan. To respect Vulcan ways. But that doesn't mean he can't be raised to respect and practice **human** ways as well, even if only at home, or among humans, or cosmopolitan Vulcans or other groups."

Sarek eyed her between steepled fingers. "That simply will not work, Amanda. The training of Vulcan youth in the disciplines is rigorous. And inflexible."

"Where does IDIC fit in that?" Amanda wanted to know.

Sarek let out a brief sigh of exasperation. He was suddenly beginning to understand some of T'Pau's concerns. "IDIC is a highly respected philosophy, revered among Vulcans. But it is practiced in conjunction with and **after** the inflexible mastery of the disciplines."

Amanda considered that for a beat and then pronounced. "That's illogical."

"Not for Vulcans," Sarek said tersely. "Amanda, you can't argue about this."

"Can't I?" she asked startled. "Why ever not?"

"Because you cannot," Sarek said, beginning to feel frustrated.

'Just watch me," she answered, her brows knitting together.

"Because it is **traditional**," Sarek continued with some heat. "Because Spock will **never** be accepted otherwise. Because Spock is Vulcan enough, in physiology, in breeding, in temperament, to require that his emotions, his passions, be contained by a full mastery of the disciplines. And **all** the rigorous training that entails."

Amanda shook her head. "Sarek, six months ago, we were considering if he might need remedial special education, perhaps in the Terran Enclave schools. I can't even begin to take in what you are proposing now."

"I am simply discussing raising Spock as the Vulcan that he is."

"But he's **not** Vulcan."

"He is."

Amanda blew out a frustrated breath. "That is so illogical, I don't even know how to address this with you."

"What you perceive as human elements in his behavior are simply uncontrolled Vulcan emotions. Ones that Spock is now of an age to master."

"But you don't **know** that," Amanda argued. "You just **think** that."

"His educational testing has convinced me."

She sat back and crossed her arms, frowning. "Oh, forgive me for not immediately falling into the corollary that because he's **smart** that must mean he is all **Vulcan**," she said with elaborate irony. "I'm just such a dumb **human** that I missed that inevitable logical chain."

"I did not mean that," Sarek said coldly.

She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Yes, you **did**. Sometimes, Sarek, you can be an elitist Vulcan prig. You absolutely did."

"I did **not**," he countered with some heat.

"And don't you **yell** at me," she came back, to his raised brows, since his voice had been no louder in volume than hers. "I'm not the one being stupidly prejudiced here. And I don't want to talk about Spock's education now. I want to talk about **your** behavior."

"Mine?" Sarek asked, all injured Vulcan innocence.

"You turned **away** from Spock. You turned him away from **you**. And you've been doing that for the last week. When you first started, I thought it was because he was sticky or sandy. Or dirty. That you didn't want to get muck over your precious Vulcan clan tunics." She brushed her own dress off in reflexive memory. "I could understand that, sort of. He can be a walking dirt devil."

"Forgive me," Sarek said, caustic in turn. "We cannot all dress in attire that proclaims one a Vulcan love slave."

"But now I see that wasn't it. Tonight he'd just had a bath; he was perfectly clean, in clean sleepers. I was the grubby one. And you still did it. You wouldn't even give him a hug and a kiss before he went to bed."

"Spock has to learn proper Vulcan behavior. Vulcans do not greet that way. Nor do they kiss."

"You kiss **me**."

"That's irrelevant," Sarek dismissed, with his irritating ability to discount facts that didn't fit his hypothesis. "You are human. Humans require touch."

"And he doesn't?" Amanda asked in astonishment.

"He will by necessity learn otherwise."

She stared at him, her jaw dropping. "Well, I don't like the sound of **that**."

"It's time for me to begin to show Spock proper behavior."

"Teach him, yes," she said. "But don't cut him off from you emotionally."

"I know of no other way to teach him."

"Well, **think** of one," she said exasperated. "Because the way you are going around it isn't going to work. You've got a half human child, here. You did realize that meant you'd have to do some thinking outside of the box," she added sarcastically.

"Not **this** box," Sarek said darkly.

"Sarek, what you are planning is doomed to failure. Don't think he is going to notice, and resent you?"

Sarek drew back, baffled. "Why should he? How could he? Amanda, this is how **all** Vulcans are raised. I am merely giving my son his heritage, a Vulcan heritage, as I was given it. I am doing this for Spock. It is the ultimate gift from a Vulcan parent to a child, to lift them above our violent emotional past."

"We're talking about Spock, not five thousand years of pre-Reform Vulcans."

"There is no difference."

Amanda stood up frustrated, and paced around the kitchen. "Oh, that's nonsense! He's affectionate. He loves you. He's going to see that you treat him differently than I do. Even differently than how you treat me. And he's going to think, at least in part, that you're rejecting him. How can he not resent that?"

"I will see that he understands."

"How much can so young a child understand? And understand it or not, he's still going to **feel** it, like he did tonight. Feel hurt every time you turn away from his embrace, and deny him yours. And comes back to me for comfort."

"But of course you must revise your behavior as well," Sarek said, reasonably. "Then there will be no confusing discrepancy."

She stared at him in shock. "Me? You have got to be kidding."

"Amanda," Sarek raised a brow. "I am quite serious."

"You **never** told me about this."

"I did not think I needed to."

"Stop **saying** that. In this context, it is totally ridiculous."

"Very well, I was remiss. Nevertheless, it is so."

"Sarek, he's my child! And I'm human. I'm not going to keep my baby at arms' length."

"You have a parental bond with him," Sarek insisted. "You do not need touch to express affection."

"It's not the same. It's not enough."

"For you or for him?"

"He is way too young to understand such a radical change in my behavior, even if I could do it. And I can't. And as for enough, how would you like it if I treated you that way? And you are an adult." Amanda countered.

Sarek bridled at this. For a moment had no answer.

"I don't think you'd like it much," she said knowingly.

"This is different."

"Maybe T'Pau didn't cuddle you-"

"Amanda, that is **quite** enough," Sarek warned. "Do not ascribe human psychology to Vulcans."

"Maybe not. But I know you can't treat a baby in a way that you would never treat an adult."

"This discussion is pointless," Sarek said. "Because Spock's training is inevitable by virtue of his own biology. You have been resident on Vulcan for some time now. You are well aware that normal Vulcan relationships do not involve physical gestures of affection, beyond traditional familial greetings and the touch appropriate between bondmates in public. You must have understood that Spock would undergo similar training. He will not be treated differently than any other Vulcan child in that respect. Your emotional over-reactions aside, he **will** survive it. And if you do as I do, he will have no contradictions to reconcile."

"Sarek," Amanda shook her head. "I don't **care** what normal Vulcans do. I won't do it. I just can't." She stared at him, drawing a standoff line. "You know how some things, **you** really, really can't do? Like forestall that juggernaut of inherited Surakian will once you have determined a course of action? Well, **I** can't do this. And you can try to roll over me like a juggernaut, but I still can't do it. You're pushing me again, and I'm not ready for this. I won't do it."

Sarek let out a half breath of impatience, indicative of the stress of the last few weeks. "Amanda, I beg you to reconsider."

"Maybe when he is older." She temporized.

"To begin later is to begin too late. He must begin to learn **now**, Amanda. One must begin to master the disciplines young."

"I can't and I won't!" she stormed.

He stared across at her, dumbfounded.

The silence stretched between them, long enough that Amanda became uncomfortable. "Sarek, you can't expect me to agree on something you spring on me like this. Something so alien to my own nature."

"We are bonded, Amanda," Sarek sounded weary; "We cannot be **alien** to one another's nature. We simply **cannot**."

"That's a pretty sentiment, but this whole thing demonstrates bonding doesn't mean I can ever fully understand you, or you understand me. And you always seem to expect that when it comes to me accepting Vulcan culture, and rarely the reverse."

"Do not say that," Sarek said. "That I cannot bear. I have done my best to ensure you are comfortable, and…and happy on Vulcan. I have taken into account your emotional needs, however **alien** I tend to find them."

"I'm not talking about how you treat me, but how you are proposing to treat Spock. And how you expect me to treat him."

"Spock is Vulcan. Amanda, you must do this for him. And for me."

"Oh, Sarek," Amanda put her own face in her hands for a moment. "You are tearing me apart, tearing me between my husband and my child. " She drew a shuddering breath. "I can't say yes. I will only say that I'll think about it. I'll promise you that much. But right now, that is all I will promise."

"That is insufficient for the present need." Sarek turned away from her, just a bit, his voice controlled in a way that suggested he was suppressing strong emotions. "You leave me no choice. I must endeavor to teach him solely by myself."

She shook her head slowly. "I didn't say that. I just need some time. "

"There is no time."

"He's still so young."

"There is **no time**, Amanda. He must learn now."

"I don't **understand**. And nothing you are saying explains to me why this is so urgent **now**. Is this one of those biological windows Subor had spoken of? Because he didn't mention it in relation to this."

"Not exactly," Sarek said. He considered and still refused to tell her of his problems in Council.

"Well, Spock won't like it. He's very stubborn. I'm not sure you realize how very stubborn he can be. You haven't worked with him as much. And I confess I have spoiled him a little. Maybe a lot."

Sarek's face set. "I must necessarily be less concerned with what he likes, than what is expected of him in Vulcan society."

She looked at him. "He won't understand either. If you can't explain it in simple terms to me, I don't see how you can explain it to him. Sarek, you should have told me this, a long, long time ago."

"I didn't think I needed to. This is common knowledge, for Vulcans." He raised an ironic brow, looking at her. "And yes, you are not. But I did not think about that. And like you, I have been more recently concerned with his more immediate viability. But you must see, Amanda, that he is Vulcan. His recent educational tests prove that, far more than even I realized. He must be trained in the disciplines. I must endeavor to help him to understand. And you must support me in that, Amanda, if I am going to succeed. You must."

Amanda looked at him, and looked away, "I don't think I am going to like this."

"That attitude is not good enough. You must accept this necessity. I am Vulcan. Spock is Vulcan. You must trust that I know what is best for him. You are my wife. We are bonded. If that means anything to you, then you must trust **me**."

"Oh," she sighed. "How can I refuse you when you put it that way? I'll try, all right? All I can do is **try** to understand. I'll promise you that much. And if I can't do it myself, I'll try to help explain it to Spock. I'll do my best to not undermine you."

"That is not sufficient."

"Right now, it's the best compromise I can give," She reached out with two fingers in the standard touch between bondmates. They used it occasionally in public, but rarely in private.

For a moment, still scarred by her tacit betrayal, Sarek just looked at her hand, unmoved.

"I'm **trying**," Amanda said. "You asked me to try."

Sarek let out a sigh again and touched his fingers to hers.

"It's not as good as a kiss," she said, looking up at him. "Or some **other** things I could mention. But I daren't, of course, risk such an emotional, unVulcan gesture before this son or Surak, Head of the High Council and Ruler of all the Clans of Vulcan." She sighed. "Why couldn't I have married just an ordinary Vulcan? One of those Council Keep guards, for example. I mean what woman wouldn't have her head turned by a uniform like that? Or even a lowly university professor? Say in astrophysics?"

"You are wicked, my wife," Sarek said. In spite of himself, his lips twitched in the briefest of Vulcan smiles. And then his hand folded around hers and he did kiss her.

"I think I'd take that university professor," she said, when he drew back. "In a heartbeat. See how fast I would."

"Quite incorrigible."

"That's my charm, my husband. I have to do something to bring back your sense of humor. You've been absolutely grim these last few days."

"I have been weary," Sarek admitted.

"And it's nothing you can share?" she asked.

Sarek looked at her. "Not yet."

Amanda's own mouth set. "I wish you'd tell your mother, if she **is** the reason behind this mood of yours, to go to-" Amanda stopped herself. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't say that." She looked up at her husband. "And if it is Federation business under some high security clearance, well, to hell with them. I'm weary of all this **too**, my husband. And based on your grim face lately, I feel like I am going to get wearier. Can't we run away, together? You and I and Spock? Can't we simply find a place where we can live in peace, and even IDIC, regardless of how old we are, or aren't, and just leave all these cares behind?"

"You may get your wish," Sarek said.

She sighed too. "But would they let us go?"

"An excellent question," Sarek said. "And perhaps we shall discover the answer."

_To be continued…._


	12. Chapter 12

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**by**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 12**

When you are young, and healthy, and in love, however difficult one's prospects may seem when you go to sleep at the end of a long tiring day, things always seem better when you wake in the morning. So it was with Amanda and Sarek. Though Sarek woke first, when the light was still predawn dim.

This was the usual time for Spock to wake, but the baby monitor was silent, not surprising after Spock's stressful day of testing yesterday. Sarek's gaze went from the long, night-shrouded windows, to the baby monitor on Amanda's beside table, her clock next to it, and passed over the vial of immuno-suppression pills she was still taking. His gaze lingered there for a moment. It was too soon to tell. Until they knew, she would have to keep taking them if she wished to become, or stay pregnant.

He looked down at his wife.

After the previous day's stresses, Amanda was also fast asleep as well, curled up at his side, a possessive arm thrown across his waist. He slid out from under it, careful not to wake her, watching her carefully. But the lashes drawn over those startling blue eyes did not flicker. Sarek drew a blanket over her, to compensate for his missing warmth in the chill of the morning, and meditated over the events yesterday at Council. Sitting back and regarding his wife, thinking of T'Pau and Council, he wondered how a person so small and insignificant in sleep could cause such consequences.

And yet, she was human. He had grown so used to the fact of his marriage, so comfortable in his bonding, and in some respects so isolated and private in their life, lived separately apart from the clan rather than within it, that he tended to forgot how others could wonder at it. He had some understanding now of Amanda's sometimes stated conviction that some Vulcans regarded humans, and her in particular, with zoo animal curiosity.

If he thought about it himself from a logical, Vulcan perspective, perhaps it was astounding that he had taken a human to wife. Even more so that she herself had agreed to bond, to come to Vulcan, to share his life, his bed in spite of the specter of Pon Far that hung over every Vulcan male. To bear him a child. She might have his child within her even now. It took all his Vulcan controls not to clasp her to him at the thought of that.

"You're doing it again. Or looking as if you were about to."

Sarek came back to himself from his half meditative trance to see that his wife had awoken. "I don't understand," he said, letting out a careful, controlled breath and deliberately relaxing.

"Going overboard," she clarified.

"Your earth-sea expressions are incongruous here." Sarek teased her, taking refuge in deliberate misunderstanding. "And incomprehensible."

"You're looking at me like you want to bring the moon to Vulcan." She propped herself up on one elbow and reached up to kiss him lightly. "Or at least add another twelve acres to the gardens," she added ironically. "Please don't. I don't need anything but you."

"In the presence of such beauty," he brushed her face with a hand, and carded fingers through her hair, "can you deny me that?"

"Flatterer," she teased. "But I'm not beautiful," she said, laying back, pillowing an arm behind her head. "Pretty enough, as far as that goes," she allowed. "But I'm afraid that's all I can claim. So ordinary you could order me by the dozen."

"I disagree."

"I'm certainly no Helen to launch a thousand ships. Or start a war," she warned, her eyes narrowed.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, startled.

"You know why," she said. "It can take me a while to figure things out, but I can recognize the signs. **Aren't** you fighting with your mother again? I thought we had settled into a comfortable mutual disdain?"

"Is that what you believe?" Sarek asked, thankful that her knowledge of what was going on in Council was not encompassing. At least he had some respite from those prospects for a while yet. When he was alone with her.

"I know you've been tense over **something**."

Sarek let out a relieved breath, and bent his head to her. "At the moment, I am not thinking of disdain."

"So it's **that** kind of look?" she asked before he kissed her. "I'll learn to read you yet," she vowed, when they both came up for air.

"I want you," he said urgently, with all the intensity of a Vulcan, in or out of Pon Far.

"You have me," Amanda said, still sleepily lazy, with familiarity leaving her largely unimpressed by all this Vulcan passion.

"Not yet."

She glanced at her clock. "We had better hurry then. Why **are** you waiting? You know that Spock will wake any minute."

He glanced pointedly at her nightstand, the vial of pills.

She looked amused. "Even if I **am**, I won't **break**. And if I'm not yet, well, there's still time," she traced a finger down his bare chest, "for you to make that happen. I repeat, why are you waiting? "

He caught her hand before the finger traced lower. The chance of her becoming pregnant now, if he went ahead, slim thought it might be, was part of the reason why he was waiting. And part of the reason why he was passionate. He was still of two minds about the prospect, knowing it was risky. Dangerous. Foolish. He'd had a day to reconsider their rash action of yesterday, to think logically through all the reasons why this was **not** the right time. But desire ran strong in his blood, inflamed it. This was one area, between bondmates, where Vulcans did not control. The birth rate on modern Vulcan was low enough that Vulcans seldom practiced reproductive control. It went against his own culture and beliefs to even consider such. Though in the case of Amanda and himself, now that she had borne him one child, it was rather the reverse for them. She would be unable to conceive now without drugs. She certainly could not carry a pregnancy to term without sophisticated medical assistance.

It was a risk to attempt having another child. But if one lived by that viewpoint, he and Amanda should never have married. And he would never go back on that decision.

Perhaps Amanda **was** correct.

He closed his eyes, almost as if not to see his own rash actions, bent his head to her, kissed her, half to test his own fragile control.

"I love you, Sarek of Vulcan," she whispered in his ear.

And that was the match that set fire to his flame and banished all his control as if it had never been. Something about her words, those words, and the emotions that accompanied them flooding across their bond, triggered something similar in him, an emotion that for a Vulcan was pre-Reform and primitive. He could no more have stopped then, than if he were in Pon Far.

No wonder Vulcans called their ultimate passion the blood fever.

Some time later Eridani rose unregarded over the Llangon mountains, though the air outside could not even begin to reach the temperature that had risen between them. They had finished, and both were fighting to catch their breath when their came a muted murmur from the baby monitor.

"Oh…" Amanda complained, pulling the sheet over her head. "He couldn't sleep just a few more minutes? I'm not sure I can move after that." The murmur came again from the baby monitor, and Amanda moaned again, but prepared to throw the sheet aside.

"Wait," Sarek cautioned, catching her before she could go to Spock. Amanda turned her head, listening. Sarek tilted his. And there was nothing more. Spock must have gone back to sleep. Amanda let out a grateful sigh and glanced at her clock. "We must have really worn him out yesterday for him not to wake up on time. She looked at the clock again, then across at Sarek, amused but curious. "How **do** you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Be so passionate and yet calculate the time we need to finish exactly to the second."

Sarek shrugged, unimpressed by his ability. "Years of familiarity with human influences have taught me one thing, my wife. Practice," Sarek said, "makes perfect."

"You are scandalous. But I can hardly argue after that performance," Amanda said. "I'll say one thing, though. I perfectly understand why your clan herald is the **lematya**. You, my dear pre-Reform warrior, are a **tiger** in bed."

"Pre-Reform?" Sarek asked, giving her a disconcerted look.

"In the **best** sense," Amanda said primly.

"That has no best sense," Sarek countered, uncomfortable at the characterization.

"My dear husband," she leaned over to kiss him, "I beg to differ.

"This is a most improper discussion," he said.

She laughed. "You Vulcans. You don't mind **doing** it. Just talking about it."

"In such states," Sarek said, "As you well know, Vulcans do not speak."

"**You** don't need to. You say it all very well without words."

On the baby monitor, they could hear Spock begin to cry in earnest.

"So begins another day in the real world," Amanda sat up and shook out her hair.

"Are we not in the real world now?" Sarek asked, watching her.

"Absolutely not. The real world is out there. You in Council, being Vulcan. Me, well, I've taken a detour from my career, but whatever else I've been doing, or plan to do. But here, alone, we are just us." She reached for the vial of pills and the glass of water by her bedside. "Here's to a baby," she said, raising the glass in salute.

Understanding the symbolism from a hundred diplomatic dinners, Sarek took the glass from her and though he was not thirsty, took a sip in turn before setting it down.

She got out of bed and suddenly clutched at the headboard, blinking. "Whoa," she said.

Sarek caught her arm, drew her to him before her knees went out from under her. "Are you unwell?"

She shook her head and after a moment, gave him one of her sunshine smiles. "Perfectly fine." She kissed him lightly. "You just made the earth move for me, that's all. Or the Vulcan equivalent."

"You are quite sure?" Sarek asked.

"Don't be such a worrywart," Amanda said lightly. "I just stood up too fast. This gravity can still take me unawares. You **know** that. Take care of your Council problems. Take care of your **Mother**. **I** can handle things here."

"Perhaps you should see Sjekur," Sarek said, referring to the renowned hybridologist who had assisted with Spock's pregnancy.

"There's no point in doing that **yet**. I don't even know that I'm pregnant. I'm probably not."

"Then you should see your own physician." Sarek frowned. "You were fatigued yesterday as well. Something could be wrong."

"Why do you say that?"

"You stopped arguing **much** too soon last evening," Sarek said dryly. "I sensed you were fatigued."

Amanda snorted at this characterization of her. "And you say that I am incorrigible."

"I am serious. You told me yourself you were fatigued."

"I always am after a day with your son. But very well. If it makes you easier, if it will convince you that I'm fine, then I have to get Spock some new clothes anyway. He's growing out of every stitch he owns. I can stop by Mark's office on the way and have him run a quick scanner over me. But I am **fine**, Sarek." She leaned up and kissed him lightly. "Don't **worry**. You Vulcans are all such broody mother hens. I could not be better. Now I had better go after your son."

Sarek looked after her, his brow furrowed.

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 13**

Later that afternoon Sarek was in a conference with Sofet when they were rudely interrupted.

"Sarek, there is a human at the outer gate who is demanding to see you," the guard said.

"What human?" Sarek asked, raising a brow.

"He said it is in reference to your wife," the guard said, "He claims to be a physician at the Terran Medical Center."

"Let him through," Sarek said, brows raised. "If you will excuse me," Sarek said to Sofet, who faded into the corridor.

Mark Abrams arrived, escorted by two of the hulking guards of Council Keep.

"Are you out of your mind?" he stormed, when he saw Sarek.

One of the guards caught his arm at this aggressive statement as he started forward, while the other stepped between the doctor and Sarek.

"Release him," Sarek said.

The guard measured the doctor with a look, then abruptly let him go.

"Leave us," Sarek told the guards and his aides.

Mark Abrams straightened his clothes as he shook off the guards. "So much for Vulcan non-violence," he said.

"You actions were the ones perceived as violent, Doctor. What have you come here to convey?" Sarek asked.

"I asked if you were out of your mind? I already know **she** is."

"I don't understand."

"Your wife tells me she is trying to get **pregnant**."

Sarek frowned and moved to close the doors to his office. "That is true, though I fail to see why you would consider that anything but a natural occurrence."

"Because you've virtually signed her death warrant if you let her continue."

"What do you mean?" Sarek said, frowning.

"You were warned, Sarek. I know Vulcans never forget anything. After Spock was born, you were told she could never bear another Vulcan child. Even a **human** child is questionable."

"Amanda and I were both warned it would be **difficult**," Sarek qualified.

"Suicidal is more like it."

"**Amanda** does not believe so."

"As if she is any qualified medical judge. At times your wife could give Pollyanna a run for her money."

"I do not understand."

"I suppose any woman who would marry a Vulcan to begin with, knowing their periodic hormonal madness, **has** no sense of self preservation."

"That is quite enough," Sarek said, eyes flashing. "If a pregnancy is confirmed we shall seek the best of specialists in interspecies pregnancy. You need not be concerned." Sarek fixed him with a glare. "And it is not your place, nor your duty, to concern yourself with whether my wife and I choose to have another child."

"I couldn't get through to her. She's as pigheaded as – well, as you're reported to be. I figured I had to try with you. And it wasn't something I wanted to cover by vidphone. Sarek, it was just barely possible for her to have Spock. When he was delivered, his blood circulated briefly in her system, sending her into massive shock. Now essentially she has something like an RH positive/ RH negative situation magnified. Even the trace amounts from a fetus would make her ill as her immune system over-responds in a much more major way than it did during her first pregnancy. To prevent that she is going to have to massively suppress her immune system. It won't leave her any resistance at all to the normal stresses of daily life. You must understand some of that, since she was taking the drugs just to get pregnant. Either the pregnancy or the fallout from immune suppression could **kill** her. You can't let her go through with this insane scheme."

"The scheme, as you say, may have already begun."

"Then it has to stop, now."

Sarek's eyes widened. "You are not suggesting-?" He paused, appalled, unable to voice it.

"There is no choice."

"Neither Amanda nor I would countenance that. Ever." Sarek said forbiddingly, shuddering even at the thought.

"Then I suggest you start lining up a new bondmate," Abrams said cruelly. "She won't last the year."

Two Vulcan guards suddenly appeared in the door, though outwardly Sarek had sent no signal. "I believe it is time for you to leave, Doctor," Sarek said.

"Just think about what I said. Amanda is being completely unrealistic about this. I hoped I could reason with you."

"Your emotional outburst is hardly indicative of reason."

"I'm not just her doctor, Sarek. The human community here is small enough that I consider her a friend. I thought I was your friend too. I would hate to lose her to this…folly. It's my duty to stop her from this suicidal move. Someone has to bring her to her senses, soon. Since I failed, you must."

"What you are discussing, Doctor, is the potential murder of a child of the ruling clan of Vulcan."

"There's no evidence she's even pregnant yet. I'm trying to **preserve** her life before it gets that far."

Sarek shook his head, unable to deal with the unVulcan proposal the physician had suggested. "Remove him," Sarek said, and turned away, seeking the peace of meditation to quiet his unease. Even knowing humans were emotional, the confrontation had shaken him.

After a moment, he looked up, to see Sofet entering his office.

"I could not help but hear," Sofet said.

Sarek said nothing, staring out the window, striving to reorder his systems and reestablish his control.

"Sarek." Sofet was staring at him, stunned. "You spoke yesterday of starting a new colony."

"If it comes to that," Sarek allowed. "I do not believe it will."

"If it does, you cannot possibly consider moving a woman potentially in a high risk pregnancy to a colony world."

"We are not leaving for a colony world **tomorrow**," Sarek said with a touch of impatience. "And the situation has not come to that."

"Why would you choose to have a child now-" Sofet's eyes widened. "Sarek, does your wife even **know** what is going on in Council?"

"It's not necessary for her to know."

"You don't think it will **affect** her?"

"There is nothing she can do."

"That's not the point."

"Sofet," Sarek met his eyes very seriously. "It is **not** going to happen. I will prevail."

"You can say that when you have practically guaranteed you will fail, by your absurd insistence on unanimity?"

"You forget yourself Sofet," Sarek said, his face darkening. "I believe you should leave. I have much to consider."

The elder Vulcan inclined his head and took his leave.

When Sofet was gone, Sarek drew a calming breath and contacted his wife. The call went unanswered for five minutes, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. He was regretting his own banning of the normal attendants who would have handled such things, becoming frustrated with Amanda's own carelessness in consistently carrying personal communication devices; he was almost determined to leave Council to seek her out, when her return call came in.

"Sorry," she said. She looked the same as always, and perfectly well, if showing the normal effects of hand to hand combat with a toddler. "Spock was raising a revolt against naptime. What's up?"

"How are you feeling?" Sarek asked.

"What a strange question from a Vulcan," Amanda said, amused. "How are **you** feeling?"

"I am quite serious. I received a visit from your physician. He seemed quite concerned for you."

"Oh, Mark. He read me the riot act," Amanda said, unimpressed. "I told you doctors are professional crepehangers."

"Nevertheless, given your human physician appears deeply concerned at the potential consequences of another pregnancy, I believe it is time to seek Sjekur's advice."

"I already did," Amanda said and laughed, "I suppose being **your** wife is proof it helps to have connections. He's booked for ages in advance, people waiting in line all over the Federation even for a preliminary consultation with him. But **I** am seeing him tomorrow afternoon."

"Did he have any comments on your seeking the appointment?" Sarek asked.

"I didn't talk to him, just to his office staff. They relayed my message to him and fit me into his schedule. Why?"

Sarek let out a breath. Perhaps it was, as Amanda implied, human over-reaction. "No reason. I will go with you to see the specialist."

"That's sweet, but I know you're busy. And it's not like he and I don't know each other, or the drill. We've been through all this before. This could take months and months Sarek, just to get pregnant."

"Nevertheless, I will attend," Sarek insisted.

"Great. Sarek, I've got to go. According to the baby monitor, Spock is up again."

"Where is I-Chiya?" Sarek asked. "Why is he not on duty?"

"It's afternoon; he's on siesta."

"We will have to get another sehlat," Sarek said. "He is perhaps too aged to assist you. You are being overtaxed. I will inquire."

"Two of them?" Amanda said, startled. "Two of those large hairy beasts? I'm not sure I would characterize that as getting **more** help. Look, we'll talk about it when you get home."

"But you are quite well?" Sarek insisted.

"Oh for goodness' sake," Amanda said. "Stop being such a worrywart. I've got to go. Love you," she said, and cut the connection without waiting for a reply.

Sarek sat back, and raised a frustrated brow.

_To be continued…._


	14. Chapter 14

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 14**

When Sarek arrived home, the first thing he heard was an odd burbling sound. And giggling. Not his wife's light amused laughter, but a toddler's low chuckle, I-Chiya's heavy panting, more of the bubbling, burbling sound, and more giggling.

Sarek came around a formal planting and discovered Spock and I-Chiya next to one of the formal fountain pools. Both of them looked up as he came around the corner. Spock had a piece of reed grass in his hand and was using it to blow bubbles in the pool.

"Wants to see my baby fishes?" Spock asked. "I catched them in dis," he pointed to a strainer he had apparently absconded with from the kitchen, "and den I puts dem in a bopple."

"Where is your mother?" Sarek demanded, frowning at the distressed fish and lifting the container.

Spock looked troubled. "Mama napping. I **pinched** her. Den I-Chiya licked her, and then he **bited** her," I-Chiya whined in confirmation of all this, while Sarek turned white, "Just a little bite. But she still no wake up. So I come out here to play."

Sarek paused only to toss the fish back into the pond, ignoring his son's aborted howl of protest, cut off when he picked Spock up. "Show me where she is."

"We was in kitchen," Spock explained. "But I never got my **snack**."

Sarek ran, through the formal gardens, the kitchen gardens, the garden court door. He put Spock down outside the door to the kitchen. "Stay here," he warned.

His first impression of the kitchen was disorder. Spock had apparently opened every door and cabinet he could reach to find the strainer he had used to catch his fish, and the container he had put them in. Sarek paused, stretching every sense. He felt nothing through the bond. He would surely feel something. Then he heard it, a faint breath. He followed it around a set of counters and found Amanda stretched out on the floor.

"Amanda," he said, kneeling beside her. He drew her up in his arms. She did not stir.

"See? Mama sleeping," Spock said, I-Chiya at his heels. The boy tugged at her hand. "Mama, wake **up**!"

"I told you to stay **outside**," Sarek said to him with terse intensity.

Spock burst into tears. "Hungry," he wailed. "Hungry long time. Want Mama wake up."

I-Chiya leaned down to lick the distraught boy, knocking Spock down. Spock cried harder.

Sarek looked from his son to his wife, and picked up Spock. "Hold tight around my neck, Spock," he said. "Hold **tight**."

"Piggyback ride," Spock said in glee, forgetting his tears. He clutched Sarek with strangling intensity around his throat.

Sarek picked up his wife. It took only the work of a moment to carry her to the aircar, Spock delighting at the ride, chortling in his ear, another moment to bundle Spock into a seat, with Amanda laid out next to him. And then he took off for the Terran medical center. He simply hoped he was in time.

The medical center was small, in consequence to the fact that there were few Terrans on Vulcan. It served the Terran Enclave center, an area set aside in Shikhar where was concentrated the Terran embassy, the Federation Center, a host of trade and science groups, and all the shops, schools and services that congregated around them. Sarek knew the Medical Center from prior visits. He entered through the main Emergency doors, Amanda in his arms. Staff immediately relieved him of her, putting her on a gurney that they trundled over.

"Heatstroke?" an attendant asked Sarek laconically, apparently the standard human complaint on Vulcan. "Dehydration? Hypoxia? Her nail beds look good." He ran a scanner over her. "No sign of the usual acclimation issues."

"I am Ambassador Sarek," he replied, "I want Mark Abrams here at once to attend her. And call Sjekur and have him here. Immediately."

The orderly's eyes widened. A young Vulcan woman seeing Sarek come in had also heard, came up, inclining her head to Sarek, and said, "It will be done."

"Mama," Spock said, holding out a hand as Amanda was taken away. "Want Mama."

Sarek looked after her as well, torn. He didn't want to expose Spock to the distress of seeing his mother treated in barbaric medical conditions. But he wanted to be with Amanda, too.

The Vulcan woman came back. There were too few humans on Vulcan to fully staff the medical center, and some Vulcans did work there. She inclined her head to Sarek again. "Sjekur is on his way," she said. "If you wish, I will take your son to the childcare center. Then you can attend your wife."

"Yes," Sarek said. "Spock, you will go with -"

"T'Hara," the woman supplied her name. "Clan of Sforr. On loan from the Healer's Enclave to learn here of Terran medicine."

"You will go with T'Hara," Sarek told his son.

Spock's eyes widened as Sarek transferred him to this stranger. He kicked out and struggled with Vulcan strength and fury, though the Vulcan woman was more than equal to restraining him. "No!" he howled. "Want Mama!"

Sarek turned back to his son. "Spock, you can **not** have your mother now. And I have duties to attend to. You will go with T'Hara as I have instructed."

"I want Mama," Spock whispered, tears on his cheeks.

"Your mother is not here to indulge you," Sarek said, disinclined under these conditions to indulge Spock as his mother would have wished. "You will do as you are told," Sarek turned away, turning a deaf ear, his own ears burning as Spock called out for his parents in every term he knew in English and Vulcan before T'Hara bundled him out of earshot.

When Sarek reached his wife, she'd been moved to a bed. Sarek winced inwardly to see her flesh pierced with a device that infused a solution into her veins.

"I know it looks barbaric," Abrams said. "to Vulcan eyes. We don't use IV's that often, but nothing beats one if we have to get drugs into her fast." Seeing Sarek's eye on the infusion bag he added, "That's just fluids. We're keeping her stable, for now, until Sjekur-"

Sjekur chose that moment to arrive, with his colleague T'Vsa, and two Vulcan attendants with a kit in tow. He glanced at the medical board over Amanda's bed, and gave rapid fire orders. The two attendants immediately withdrew the appropriate drugs.

"Why did you not bring her to the healer's Enclave?" Sjekur asked Sarek.

"She is human," Sarek said. "It seemed the place with the best resources to treat her."

"It is the Vulcan child within her that is the source of her problem," Sjekur said.

"She is pregnant?" Sarek asked. "You are sure?"

"Indeed. With those readings nothing else is possible."

"Amanda thought she might be," Abrams said. "**My** tests were still inconclusive. All I could see was that her metabolism was being adversely affected by the immune suppressive drugs she was taking.

"Did she not relate that she felt at least ill?" Sjekur asked Sarek.

"She related the exact opposite." Sarek looked down at Amanda. It had all happened so suddenly. There had only been the evening that Amanda had been singing Spock to sleep, and the next morning. "She had indicated that she had felt tired yesterday evening," Sarek admitted. "She was perhaps somewhat subdued then, for her. And this morning she appeared momentarily dizzy when she rose."

"Severe fatigue will be a natural consequence of this pregnancy," Sjekur said absently, attention focused on his exam. "One of many."

Sarek held himself in control as the Healer touched his wife mentally, brushing fingers from her blond brows to her temples.

"But she will recover," Sarek said, not asking, watching the healer visibly frown as he examined Amanda.

Sjekur glanced at him. "Her physiological response to the pregnancy is certainly not what one could wish. Although not unexpected."

"She will **recover**," Sarek insisted.

The Vulcan healer glanced at Sarek. "We will attempt to ensure that she does. To begin, we will keep her here for a day at least."

"She will not lose the child?"

Sjekur met Shrek's eyes. "I cannot promise any definite outcome."

"But you do not believe," Sarek eyed Abrams, "that she must-"

Seeing Sarek unable to complete the sentence, Abrams cut in. "I told Sarek I believed Amanda should be relieved of the pregnancy if one had occurred. That it was too dangerous. He refused to consider it."

"Certainly he refused. That is not our way," Sjekur said. He eyed Sarek again. "For now, we will attempt to regulate her dosage to the appropriate drugs, to attempt to control this runaway immune system reaction. More than that, I cannot say. Humans have no conscious control over their physiology. As healers we can attempt some melds to impose control on her system. We have been having some recent successes with biofeedback. But much of her treatment must be done with drugs, which are necessarily crude."

"Is it possible she will lose the child?" Sarek asked striving to keep his voice even.

Sjekur's hands had moved lower, to cover Amanda's abdomen, his eyes closed. "The child, at present, is not in distress. It is not suffering the reaction that his host is."

"His?" Sarek asked.

"The fetus is a male," Sjekur said. "You have another son."

"A son," Sarek said. He drew a breath, thinking what that would mean to Spock, to have a sibling. A brother. He himself would have given much to have one. He looked down at his striken wife. "But Amanda-"

"It is too soon to predict, Sarek. This will be a difficult pregnancy. We will do what we can. What we must."

"Should we move her to the Healer's Enclave?" Abrams asked, watching the monitors as Amanda began reacting to the drugs infused into her system.

"I do not believe she should be moved at this time. Her condition is not necessarily perilous at the moment, but it is delicate. Nor is it necessary. We can care for her here. But the room should be warmer. She is not accustomed to these conditions physiologically. It is causing her and the fetus stress."

"Yes, of course," Abrams went to adjust the environmental controls.

"How long must she stay here?" Sarek asked, his eyes on his wife.

"It will take at least a day to regulate the type and amount of immune-suppressive drugs to give her," Sjekur said. "And then she will have to be very closely monitored as the fetus grows." His eyes met Sarek's. "I will not make light of the potential outcomes of this pregnancy, Sarek. You must be prepared for any eventuality."

Sarek tore his eyes from Amanda to meet those of the Healer.

"**Any** eventuality," Sjekur repeated. "Do not ask me to quote odds. At this point I do not have enough data. But while as a Vulcan, I do not countenance the unVulcan exigency my colleague proposes, I will not deny that in some cultures it might be considered one option given the extreme threat this pregnancy will impose on the mother's life. I trust I do not need to make myself more clear."

"Neither Amanda nor I would countenance such a measure," Sarek said.

"We shall endeavor to see your new son, and your wife, through this peril successfully," Sjekur said, the words giving Sarek unVulcan comfort. But then the healer spoiled them by adding, "Take good care of your first child, Sarek. He has become even more precious to you."

Sarek could not help giving the elder Vulcan a startled glance, but the Healer's face was unrevealing.

Abrams merely looked away, his face set.

And as Sarek took a tear-sodden Spock home, he could not help sympathizing with Amanda's desire to hug and hold her child closely.

Were he not Vulcan, he might succumb to some similar attempt at comfort. For himself as well as for Spock.

_To be continued…._


	15. Chapter 15

**The Judgment of Solomon**

**By**

**Pat Foley**

**Chapter 15**

The next morning, having been assured his wife was recovering well under Sjekur's care, Sarek had inherited her babysitting duties until she could return. Amanda had insisted upon it when he had spoken to her. She had sounded and looked perfectly well, rapidly recovering after her dosage had been adjusted, Sjekur assured him that as soon as he was sure she had stabilized she could return home. Sarek had no doubt that the future difficult course of Amanda's pregnancy would require that other child care options must soon be explored. But for the moment, he chose not to distress her by doing other than what she wished.

Sarek settled in the garden with a sheaf of Council documents that required his attention and a portable reader. For Spock, he borrowed a leaf out of his wife's book and brought a blanket, a basket of fruit and juice, and a box of logic puzzles and a few carefully selected Vulcan texts suitable for a young child. Spock circulated between puzzles and books and food in a most disorganized, undisciplined way, but Sarek was not concerned with that.

For an hour, except for having to pause every few moments to answer a question, Sarek's role as babysitter went well. Due to a Vulcan's natural ability to concentrate, he had no problem simultaneously answering questions and keeping his mind on his work. He wondered why Amanda complained so about Spock's constant questioning. He regarded this as an opportunity to increase Spock's facility in Vulcanur. To sum it up, Sarek believed taking care of a Vulcan child, as Amanda might have phrased it, was child's play.

But inexperience tripped him up. There came a short period where Spock ceased to ask him questions and Sarek let himself get drawn into a detailed Federation document. When next he looked up, Spock was gone.

He was Vulcan. He did not panic. For one thing, I-Chiya was with the child. For another, the grounds were walled and secure and Spock could not get far, especially since I-Chiya would stop him from going out on the Forge. But given his wife was risking her life to give him a second child, Sarek felt it incumbent on him to ensure he preserved intact the **first** one she had given him.

He listened keenly, but he heard nothing, and had to resort to following the tug of the parental bond to find his child. He heard Spock before he found him. First a few giggles, and some smacking sounds. Then his son's voice.

"Mine, I-Chiya. Mine. You get your own. No, mine! Oh, all right. You can have these." More giggles. Good, huh? Want more? Ouch! Watch thorns."

"Spock?" Sarek turned a corner and saw his son, sitting beneath a large rose hedge. Around him the ground was littered with buds and petals.

"What are you doing?" Sarek asked in horror.

Spock looked up at him with a pink tinted, rose-petaled grin. "I-Chiya and me, we have our **own** picnic."

"You're **eating** them?"

"Taste good, Yum, yum."

"Spock, no," Sarek pulled him up, opened his hands and extracted the crumpled sandy flowers from his grubby fists over Spock's resistance.

"No, **mine**!"

"Spit them out!" Sarek demanded. "How much have you eaten?"

"Won't! Good food!"

For a moment Sarek was ready to rush, for the second time in two days, a family member to an emergency medical center. He bundled Spock under one arm. But then, half panicked, had the foresight to think to strip a rose hedge of a sampling of buds and petals for a poison analysis. Then ready to plunge headlong for the aircar, it occurred to him that before he descended on the healers he could analyze the flowers himself. Mindful to be careful, lest he poison himself and fail to get Spock aide, nevertheless he ripped a petal in quarters so that it was barely a few millimeters, and tentatively tasted the plant, letting his own tastebuds check for toxins.

"Taste good, huh?" Spock asked, watching him.

Sarek let Spock slide from his hip to the ground. "Yes," he said in reluctant surprise.

Spock reached to grab for more flowers. "See, we have **picnic**."

"Wait," Sarek commanded, and went to take them from him.

"No. This **my** bush," Spock said. "You get your own. Lotsa flowers here; this one's **mine**."

"Spock you mustn't eat things you find growing in the garden," Sarek said. "They could be dangerous." Just to be sure, he took another petal and tasted it carefully. And let out a sigh of relief. It was innocuous. Not a single toxic substance. He hadn't allowed his son to be poisoned through negligence the first day his wife was incapacitated by her pregnancy. And Spock was right. The flavor was mildly sweet, vaguely floral. To a Vulcan's tastebuds, quite delicious.

"**You** eaten em."

"Nevertheless you must not put in your mouth whatever you find. Only what your mother and I give you to eat. And you have had enough of these roses. They could still be unwholesome if taken in quantity. I will later have them analyzed in detail."

"I-Chiya still hungry."

"He has had enough too."

"This **our** picnic." Spock said stubbornly.

Sarek debated carrying him away and putting an end to this argument but reflected that while it would be easier for himself, Spock **was** old enough to restrain himself, to begin learning the discipline of obedience. And necessary for him to begin now. Amanda could hardly continue carrying him during a high-risk pregnancy. "Spock, I have **told** you to leave the roses and attend me."

Uneasy at the standoff, I-Chiya whined.

Dark eyes surveyed him coolly and discounted him. "**You** not the boss of **me**," Spock challenged, deliberately in English, rather than the Vulcanur Sarek had been speaking to him all morning. And equally deliberately he crammed the contents of both fists full of rose petals into his mouth.

Sarek's brows rose to his bangs. "I don't know where you reached such an erroneous conclusion, but I assure you it is entirely incorrect."

"No! Not!" Spock said, spitting out a few petals in his fury.

"You will **do** as you are **told**," Sarek said.

"You bad, **bad**. No logical. I hungry, I eat."

Sarek drew a breath, prepared to nip this incipient mutiny in the bud as it were, regardless of the means necessary to do it, his own temper beginning to fray. But then meeting his son's equally determined, stubborn eyes, he was suddenly struck by the force of Spock's will, flashing from his eyes, spilling across the parental bond. Sarek actually took a step back, startled, staring at his son. If he had ever had a moment's doubt that Spock was fully his son, his heir, regardless of any human heritage his mother might have given him, that doubt had now been extinguished.

Spock raised his chin, a hint of cool triumph in his eyes, seeing Sarek disconcerted. "I eat," he said, willfully stubborn, and reached for another rosebud.

"**Drop** it," Sarek said in emphatic mode, in a tone that would have given every clan leader in Council pause.

It didn't faze Spock in the slightest. He stuffed the petal in his mouth.

Sarek took him by the hand and hauled Spock back to the house and put him, howling and furious, into his crib. The Vulcan method of discipline would have involved withdrawing the parental bond, but at the moment, Sarek was not sure he trusted his own mental shields to retain the proper detachment during the process.

"You can stay there, as the infant you have proven yourself to be until you are ready to behave as your age dictates," Sarek said.

Spock kicked and shook the side of his crib in fury. "Want Mama! Want Mama! Want **Mama**!" he yelled, the last loud enough to pain even human ears.

"And don't even **think** about getting out of that crib." Sarek warned.

It was more likely Spock would tear it down, but the boy stopped short of that.

Sarek walked out of the room to a renewed storm of toddler tears. Once out of the room, he paused and drew a deep breath, marshalling his control. From the room, Spock was still crying as if his heart would break, enough to touch even Sarek's heart as his own flare of temper cooled. He had to remind himself of his little son's determined disobedience.

"I want Mama," Spock sobbed, and Sarek drew a deep breath into his lungs and let it out in a weary sigh.

"So do I," Sarek muttered, resisting the urge to lean against the wall. "So do I."

Spock didn't get out of his crib. In a few minutes, the sobbing stopped. Sarek went back in, to see if Spock were ready to behave. But his son had fallen asleep. Amanda would have been horrified, Sarek thought, to see **how** he had gone to sleep, in dirty, sandy clothes, still wearing shoes, his face tear streaked, and a grubby thumb thrust into his mouth in a mannerism Sarek hadn't seen him effect in a year. He reached down and gently eased Spock's thumb from his mouth, remembering how Amanda had been worried he'd ruin the shape of his developing teeth.

Spock sobbed once, still asleep, and then clutched his pillow. "Mama. I-Chiya," he pled brokenly, caught in painful dreams.

Sarek sat across from Spock in the rickety rocker, thinking soberly about the fact that Spock had cried for his mother. He had cried for his pet. He had not cried for **him**.

A little, niggling thread of doubt made him wonder if Amanda's prediction from the other night could possibly come true.

But he banished the thought in the next instant. The Vulcan way was right, correct. Even Amanda admired the philosophy. It was the heritage his son deserved. One he meant to give to him. Whatever the cost.

Even if the cost to them all included a few tears. And one sorely frayed father.

_To be continued…._


End file.
